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THE  YOUTH'S   COMPANION 
SERIES 

GEOGRAPHICAL   READERS 

THE  WIDE  WORLD 
NORTHERN   EUROPE 
UNDER  SUNNY  SKIES 
TOWARD  THE  RISING  SUN 
STRANGE  LANDS  NEAR  HOME 


Copyright,  1902,  by  Perry  Mason  Company 
36.4 


CHAMPION  ACCESSION 
UBfUBY 


PREFATORT   NOTE 
x 

<T~*HE  volumes  of  the  "Youth's  Companion"  Series 

entitled     "The     Wide     World"     "Northern 

^Europe"  "  Under  Sunny  Skies"  "  Toward  the  Rising 

Sun"  and  "  Strange  Lands  near  Home "  provide  in 

)    interesting  and  attractive  form   a   supply   of  reading 

N  material  for  either  home  or  school  that  is  especially 

i 

suitable  for  supplementing  the  formal  teaching  of 
^geography. 

"The  Wide  World"  with  which  the  series  prop- 
erly begins ',  presents  vivid  scenes  from  many  countries. 
}  Each  of  the  succeeding  volumes  enters  into  somewhat 
greater  detail  on  a  limited  area,  which  is  indicated 
by  the  title.*  The  sketches  have  been  prepared  by 
authors  whose  work  needs  no  introduction. 

The  sketches  included  in  "  Strange  Lands  near 
Home  "  are  on  Mexico,  the  West  Indies ,  and  various 
points  of  interest  in  South  America. 


O] 


CONTENTS 

THE  SEA  OF  THE  DISCOVERY  H.  Butterworth    .     . 

A  TRIP  TO  SANTO   DOMINGO  Julia  Ward  Howe    . 
IN    THE    GRAND    PLAZA    OF 

MEXICO Joaquin  Miller 

A  MEXICAN  CITY    ....  Marie  Howland   .     . 

A  GROWING  MOUNTAIN    .     .  W.  E.  Curtis  .... 

A  VENEZUELAN  RAILWAY      .  Thomas  L.  Stedman  .     . 
AN  EVENING  IN  A  BRAZILIAN 

FOREST Arabella  B.  Buckley .     .     52 

LIFE  IN  ASUNCION  ....  Charles  H.  Pratt ...     60 

THE  CARNIVAL  IN  LIMA  .     .  Maria  Louise  Wetmore .     69 

AN  ODD  CITY  IN  THE  ANDES  W.  E.  Curtis  .     .     .     .     75 

THE  LAND  OF  THE  LLAMA   .  W.  E.  Curtis  ....     86 

THE  ARGENTINE  CAPITAL      .  Charles  H.  Pratt .     .     .     97 

LOST  AMONG  BUBBLES       .     .  Edmund  Collins  .     .     .107 

BITTER  COLD Frederick  Schwatka  .     .115 

THE  PLAY  OF   ESKIMO  BOYS  Frederick  Schwatka  .     .120 

THE  HOME  OF  THE  ICEBERGS   M.  Harvey 127 

PRONOUNCING  VOCABULARY 135 

[vi] 


STRANGE  LANDS  NEAR  HOME 


THE  SEA  OF  THE  DISCOVERY 

THE  Bahama  Sea  is  perhaps  the  most  beautiful 
of  all  waters.  Columbus  beheld  it  and  its  islands 
with  a  poet's  eye. 

"  It  only  needed  the  singing  of  the  nightingale," 
said  the  joyful  mariner,  "to  make  it  like  Anda- 
lusia in  April " ;  and  to  his  mind  Andalusia  was 
the  loveliest  place  on  earth.  In  sailing  among 
these  gardens  of  the  sea  in  the  serene  and  trans- 
parent autumn  days  after  the  great  discovery,  the 
soul  of  Columbus  was  at  times  overwhelmed  and 
entranced  by  a  sense  of  the  beauty  of  everything 
in  it  and  about  it.  Life  seemed,  as  it  were,  a 
spiritual  vision. 

"  I  know  not,"  said  the  discoverer,  "  where  first 
to  go;  nor  are  my  eyes  ever  weary  of  gazing  on 
the  beautiful  verdure.  The  singing  of  the  birds 
is  such  that  it  seems  as  if  one  would  never  desire 
to  depart  hence." 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


He  speaks  in  a  poet's  phrases  of  the  odorous 
trees,  and  of  the  clouds  of  parrots  whose  bright 
wings  obscured  the  sun.  His  descriptions  of  the 
sea  and  its  gardens  are  full  of  glowing  and  sym- 
pathetic colorings,  and  all  things  to  him  had  a 
spiritual  meaning. 

"  God,"  he  said,  on  reviewing  his  first  voyage  over 
these  Western  waters,  "  God  made  me  the  messen- 
ger of  the  new  heavens  and  earth,  and  told  me  where 
to  find  them.  Charts,  maps,  and  mathematical 
knowledge  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  case." 

Columbus  was  a  student  of  the  Greek  and  Latin 
poets  and  of  the  poetry  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures. 
The  visions  of  Isaiah  were  familiar  to  him,  and  he 
thought  that  Isaiah  himself  at  one  time  appeared 
to  him  in  a  vision.  He  loved  nature.  To  him 
the  outer  world  was  a  garment  of  the  Invisible ; 
and  it  was  before  his  great  soul  had  suffered  dis- 
appointment that  he  saw  the  sun-flooded  waters 
of  the  Bahama  Sea  and  the  purple  splendors  of 
the  Antilles.  There  is  scarcely  an  adjective  in  the 
picturesque  report  of  Columbus  in  regard  to  this 
sea  and  these  islands  that  is  not  now  as  appropriate 
and  fitting  as  in  the  days  when  its  glowing  words 
delighted  Isabella  four  hundred  years  ago. 


The  Sea  of  the  Discovery 


I    recently  passed   from   the   sea   of   Watling 
Island,  the  probable  San  Salvador,  to  the  point 


of  Cuba  discovered  on  the  28th  of  October,  1492, 
and  to  the  coast  of  Haiti,  the  Hispaniola  of 
Columbus  and  the  scene  of  the  first  settlement 

[3] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


in  the  New  World.  I  had  studied  the  descriptions 
of  Columbus,  and  almost  every  hour  of  the  voyage 
brought  them  to  mind  like  so  many  pictures. 

Watling  Island  was  probably  the  first  landfall 
of  Columbus,  and  the  scene  of  the  dramatic  events 
of  the  elevation  of  the  cross,  the  singing  of  the 
Te  Deum,  and  the  unfurling  of  the  banner  of  the 
double  crowns  of  Leon  and  Castile  on  the  red 
morning  of  Oct.  12,  1492. 

The  San  Salvador  of  the  old  maps,  or  Cat 
Island,  a  place  now  of  some  four  thousand  inhab- 
itants, was  not  really  the  scene  of  Columbus's 
landing. 

Watling  Island  lies  far  out  in  the  sea.  It  is 
cooled  by  waving  palms,  and  is  full  of  singing 
birds.  It  has  a  tall  lighthouse  tower  painted 
white.  As  one  sees  it  one  recalls  the  fact  that 
no  friendly  light  except  the  night  fagots  of  the 
Indians  guided  the  eye  of  Columbus.  Watling 
Island  has  a  population  of  less  than  seven  hun- 
dred souls,  and  is  not  often  visited  by  large 
steamers. 

I  secured  some  fine  specimens  of  "sargasso," 
or  gulf  weed,  in  passing  through  this  sea.  Over 
these  waters  continually  drift  fields  of  this  peculiar 

[4] 


The  Sea  of  the  Discovery 


seaweed.  It  is  of  a  bright  yellow  color;  it  shines 
brilliantly  in  the  sun,  and  at  a  distance  presents  a 
scene  of  dazzling  splendor.  The  "  berries,"  which 
sailors  say  are  poisonous  to  certain  kinds  of  ti>h, 
are  very  salt.  The  weed  seems  always  to  move 
west  before  the  trade  winds.  Over  these  fields  of 
shining  drift,  land  birds  came  singing  to  the  ships 
of  the  adventurers ;  and  on  one  of  the  matted  beds 
a  land  crab  appeared,  —  a  sure  indication  of  a 
near  shore. 

The  crews  of  Columbus  feared  to  enter  the 
Sargasso  Sea.  They  had  been  told  that  in  sailing 
west  they  would  come  to  a  sea  of  monsters,  and 
they  feared  that  these  ocean  meadows  might  cover 
hidden  foes  and  perils. 

The  peculiar  beauty  of  the  Bahama  Sea  is  its 
clearness  and  deep  purple  color.  This  dark  purple 
color  is  said  to  be  the  result  of  the  "shadow  of 
deep  waters,"  though  whether  this  is  a  scientific 
view  I  do  not  know.  Under  a  cloudless  sky  the 
sea  is  luminous  purple. 

A  cloud  shadow  changes  this  royal  hue  into 
emerald.  One  gazes  down  into  deeps  unknown 
and  sees  the  pairs  of  dolphins  as  clearly  as  the 
white-winged  birds  overhead.  One's  eye  follows 

[5] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


the  flying  fishes  as  clearly  when  they  go  down 
as  when  they  dart  into  the  open  air.  One  here 
dreams  of  coral  gardens,  of  sea  nymphs,  and 
recalls  the  ancient  poets'  conceptions  of  Oceanus 
and  Neptune.  All  fancies  seem  possible  to  the 
creative  imagination  here. 

On  the  islands  of  the  Greater  and  Lesser 
Antilles  grow  the  most  abundant  cocoanut 
groves  in  the  world.  The  trees  are  graceful  and 
lofty,  and  as  a  rule  are  slanted  by  the  winds. 
They  bear  a  solid  burden  of  fruit. 

"I  have  counted  from  forty  to  fifty  cocoanuts 
on  a  single  tree ! "  I  said  to  an  officer  of  my 
steamer,  in  surprise. 

u  I  have  counted  a  hundred,"  was  his  answer. 

It  seems  wonderful  that  so  slender  a  trunk  can 
hold  aloft  in  the  air  such  a  weight  of  fruit. 

The  nuts  on  a  single  palm  are  not  only  numer- 
ous but  of  great  size.  A  single  nut  often  yields 
a  pint  of  cocoanut  water.  The  palms  of  all  the 
islands  must  be  as  fruitful  to-day  as  when  the  first 
voyagers  saw  them. 

Columbus  speaks  of  flocks  of  parrots  that  "dark- 
ened the  sun."  Such  flocks  do  not  appear  now, 
but  in  every  port  of  the  Antilles  there  is  a  parrot 

[6] 


The  Sea  of  the  Discovery 


market.  The  natives  love  their  parrots,  and  the 
cool  trees  and  drinking  stands  of  the  parrot  market 
make  a  popular  place  of  resort.  As  a  rule,  the 
birds  are  not  confined  in  cages.  They  are  left 
to  climb  about  on  the  booths  in  which  cocoanut 
water  and  cool  drinks  are  sold. 

The  glory  of  the  Bahama  Sea  is  the  night 
A  sudden  hush  falls  upon  the  purple  serenity; 
the  sunset  flames,  and  the  day  is  done.  The  roof 
of  heaven  seems  low,  and  the  stars  come  out  like 
silver  suns. 

One  does  not  need  to  look  upward  to  see  the 
stars.  The  heavens  are  below  as  well  as  above; 
the  sky  is  in  the  sea.  One  recalls  the  pictures 
that  Columbus  gives  of  the  expansion  of  his 
soul.  One  here  feels  a  longing  to  attain  larger 
knowledge  and  all  that  is  best  in  life,  and  wonders 
what  new  discoveries  may  await  the  spiritual  facul- 
ties in  wider  horizons  than  these.  Wherever  he 
may  go,  the  tourist  will  ever  return  in  memory  to 
the  Sea  of  the  Great  Discovery.  It  is  the  para- 
dise of  the  ocean  world ;  the  temple  gate  of  the 
West. 

H.   BUTTERWORTH. 


r.7] 


A  TRIP  TO  SANTO  DOMINGO 

SHOULD  you  like  to  get  on  board  a  steamship 
for  a  voyage  to  the  island  of  Santo  Domingo? 
It  may  be  only  a  dream  steamship  to  you,  but  it 
is  the  image  of  one  in  which  I  did  make  that 
voyage  some  time  ago. 

Let  us  suppose  that  I  have  you  all  on  board, 
the  anchor  weighed,  and  the  harbor  of  New  York 
fading  in  the  distance. 

Your  first  hour  on  board  will  probably  be  passed 
in  putting  your  books  and  clothes  into  something 
like  order.  While  you  are  about  this,  dinner  will  be 
announced,  but  if  the  wind  happens  to  be  ahead, 
the  rolling  and  pitching  of  the  vessel  may  make 
you  think  of  something  very  different,  namely, 
your  bed,  and  how  to  get  into  it.  You  try  to  do 
this,  and  everything  seems  to  be  against  you. 

Your  books  come  tumbling  down  from  the 
upper  berth  in  which  you  had  laid  them.  Your 
traveling  bag  rolls  over  upon  your  feet  and 
hurts  them.  Your  portable  inkstand,  which  you 

[8] 


A  Trip  to  Santo  Domingo 


imprudently  got  out  in  order  to  write  down  your 
last  impressions  of  New  York,  falls  out  of  the  rack 
into  the  wash  basin  and  sprinkles  the  premises 
with  ink. 

You  feel  very  ill,  and  it  makes  you  worse  to 
hear  the  vessel  strain  in  the  sea,  with  doleful 
noises,  as  if  her  wooden  sides  were  in  pain. 
At  last,  with  the  help  of  steward  or  stewardess, 
you  are  properly  undressed,  and  your  dizzy 
head  is  glad  to  rest  upon  a  hard,  rather  damp 
pillow. 

Rock,  rock,  rock.  If  you  are  not  very  ill,  the 
motion  soon  lulls  you  to  sleep,  and  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  night  you  hear  only  the  boatswain's 
whistle  piping  shrill  and  sweet,  and  the  heavy 
steps  of  the  sailors  who  come  up  on  deck  and 
go  below  when  the  watch  is  changed. 

We  will  suppose  that  these  rough  days  are  past, 
and  that  our  ship  is  now  carried  smoothly  over 
the  tropical  sea  by  a  favorable  wind.  The  seasick 
folk  are  all  up  and  dressed,  though  not  in  their 
best  clothes.  They  begin  to  laugh  at  their  late 
misfortunes. 

How  bright  the  sky  is,  and  how  warm  is 
the  sunshine !  The  thought  of  dinner  becomes 

[9] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


a  pleasant  one,  as  the  sea  air  gives  the  recovered 
patients  a  keen  appetite. 

If  you  look  over  the  side  of  the  vessel,  you  will 
see  quantities  of  gulf  weed,  yellow  sprays  that  look 
almost  golden  in  the  blue  water.  You  may  fish 
for  this,  if  you  will,  with  a  long  string  and  a  large 
pin  bent  to  serve  as  a  hook.  When  you  have 
caught  a  bit  of  it,  and  have  drawn  it  on  board, 
you  will  find  it  a  coarse,  common  seaweed,  not 
worth  preserving. 

You  will  see  here  and  there,  too,  the  Portuguese 
man-of-war.  This  is  a  shellfish  called  a  "  nautilus," 
which  looks  as  if  it  carried  a  tiny  sail  on  the 
surface  of  the  water.  Shoals  of  flying  fish  dart 
out  of  the  sea  and  fall  back  into  it.  If  a  few 
should  be  caught  on  deck,  they  will  be  found  very 
nice  when  fried. 

Meantime  the  weather  grows  warm.  It  is  perhaps 
only  four  days  since  you  came  on  board  wrapped 
in  your  winter  furs  and  wadded  coat.  Now  you 
find  summer  clothing  very  comfortable,  and  a  broad 
shade  hat  indispensable,  for  the  glare  of  the  light 
upon  the  water  is  very  trying  to  the  eyes. 

At  sunset  you  see  such  wonderful  clouds  of 
every  shape  1  There  is  one  which  looks  like  a 

[10] 


A  Trip  to  Santo  Domingo 


party  of  ladies  with  queer  bonnets,  which  melt 
and  change  as  fashions  really  do.  There  is  a  lion 
galloping  after  a  dog.  Now  the  dog  changes  to 
a  lizard,  and  the  lion  to  a  whale.  There  is  a  group 
of  fiery,  untamed  horses,  which  presently  take  the 
shape  of  a  monstrous  giant,  who  loses  his  head 
and  in  turn  melts  into  something  else  equally 
strange  and  unsubstantial. 

As  night  comes  on,  the  sky  seems  to  turn  into 
black  velvet,  studded  with  diamond  stars.  You 
can  stay  on  deck  until  bedtime  without  danger, 
and  when  you  bid  your  friends  good  night,  even 
the  voices  of  dear  ones  sound  sweeter  in  the  soft, 
tropical  air  than  elsewhere. 

On  one  of  these  nights  you  pass  a  distant  light 
which  looks  almost  like  a  star  very  near  its  setting. 
They  tell  you  that  this  is  Turk's  Island  light,  and 
your  heart  is  cheered  by  the  sight  of  something 
that  is  really  on  land. 

After  this  you  have  still  a  good  many  miles  to 
sail,  but  before  long  there  comes  a  morning  in 
which  you  become  aware  that  something  has 
caused  new  excitement  and  activity  on  board 
the  steamer.  Then  comes  a  knock  at  your  door, 
and  the  cry: 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


"  Porto  Plata  is  in  sight !  Come  out  and  have 
a  look  at  Mount  Isabel !  " 

You  run  out,  wondering  if  this  can  be  true,  and 
are  astonished  to  see  the  lofty  mountain,  rising 


sharp  and  sheer  against  the  cloudless  sky.     At 
its  base  lies  a  pretty,  thriving  little  town. 

The    ship   is   just    steaming   into  the    harbor. 
Presently  she  comes  to  anchor  in  the  roadstead. 

[12] 


A  Trip  to  Santo  Domingo 


Boats  rowed  by  negroes  come  alongside,  and  the 
health  and  customs  officers  come  on  board.  There 
is  much  shaking  of  hands  and  chattering  in  Span- 
ish and  in  English.  You  walk  carefully  down 
the  companionway,  and  the  boats  soon  land  you 
at  the  long  wooden  causeway,  which  in  turn  soon 
brings  you  to  terra  firma.  No  matter  how  well 
you  may  like  the  sea,  it  Is  a  great  pleasure  to  find 
yourself  on  land  again. 

The  steamer  stays  but  one  day  at  Porto  Plata, 
but  this  gives  you  time  to  see  much  that  is  new 
and  amusing.  In  the  first  place,  you  will  look 
at  the  little  carts,  drawn  each  by  one  bullock, 
which  are  driven  down  into  the  shallow  water  to 
receive  the  goods  brought  from  the  steamer  in 
large  boats  called  "  lighters."  Then  you  will 
like  to  walk  through  the  streets  and  to  look  at 
the  shops,  which  display  many  curious  things. 
Among  other  commodities,  the  fruits  of  the  coun- 
try will  interest  you.  Passing  by  the  market, 
you  will  see  heaps  of  golden  oranges,  which  are 
offered  you  by  the  thousand.  Bananas  are  sold 
in  huge  bunches.  You  can  buy  one  of  these 
bunches  for  twenty-five  cents.  It  would  cost  you 
five  dollars  in  New  York  or  Boston.  Then  there 

C'3] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


are  sapodillas,  with  russet  skin  and  orange  pulp 
surrounding  a  large  polished  stone ;  and  arimoyas, 
purple  in  color  and  full  of  milky  juice ;  and  sour- 
sop,  or  guanabana,  of  which  the  juice  only  is  used. 
This  latter  fruit  looks  like  a  soft  green  pineapple. 
Its  flavor  resembles  a  combination  of  pineapple 
and  strawberry.  You  can  squeeze  it  to  obtain  juice, 
but  if  you  attempt  to  bite  into  it,  you  will  find  noth- 
ing but  a  tough  fiber,  which  is  quite  uneatable. 

In  these  warm  climates  people  usually  rise  very 
early  and  take  a  long  nap  in  the  middle  of  the 
day.  So  you  will  find  that  the  little  town  seems 
to  go  to  sleep  between  twelve  and  one  o'clock  and 
to  remain  very  quiet  for  about  three  hours.  You 
will  feel  drowsiness  stealing  over  you,  and  will  do 
well  to  follow  the  general  custom  and  to  take  what 
is  called  a  "  siesta."  You  can  do  this  best  at  the 
hotel,  a  bare  and  barnlike  building,  in  the  upper 
story  of  which  you  will  easily  find  a  cot  bed  with 
a  mosquito  netting  hung  over  it.  There  are  no 
glass  windows  here,  or  anywhere  else  in  the 
tropics,  but  the  stout  wooden  shutters  will  make 
the  room  dark  enough. 

It  may  be  nearly  four  o'clock  when  you  wake 
from  your  slumber  and  find  the  town  waking  up, 

[•4] 


A  Trip  to  Santo  Domingo 


too.  A  fresh  breeze  now  blows  from  the  sea,  and 
the  atmosphere  is  comfortably  cool.  The  horses' 
hoofs  rattle  on  the  pavement,  and  if  you  look  out, 
you  will  see  the  pretty  little  animals  going  along 
very  swiftly  and  so  smoothly  that  their  riders  are 
scarcely  stirred  in  the  saddle. 

If  you  walk  a  little  out  of  the  town,  you  will 
find  plenty  of  ferns  and  wild  flowers,  and  you  will 
see  numbers  of  curious  yellow  land  crabs  crawling 
about  on  the  road. 

But  at  nightfall  you  will  be  warned  to  go  on 
board  your  steamer.  Returning,  and  clambering 
up  the  sides,  you  may  find  the  sailors  amusing 
themselves  by  throwing  bits  of  pork  to  the  sharks, 
whose  ugly  pinkish  heads  are  now  and  then  thrust 
up  out  of  the  water,  expecting  a  choice  morsel. 
You  now  understand  why  it  is  better  to  be  on 
board  before  dark,  as  the  boat  which  brings  you 
might  upset,  in  which  case  these  sea  monsters 
would  be  very  ready  to  make  a  hasty  meal,  with- 
out distinction  of  persons. 

In  the  early,  early  morning,  while  you  are  still 
sleeping  soundly,  the  anchor  is  weighed  and  the 
steamer  starts  for  Samana,  which  is  the  next 
stopping  place.  JULIA  WARD  HOWE. 

C'S] 


IN  THE  GRAND  PLAZA  OF  MEXICO 

HERE  stood  Montezuma's  mighty  Temple  to  the 
Sun.  Much  allowance  must  be  made,  of  course, 
for  the  vivid  imaginations  of  the  Spanish  his- 
torians in  the  romantic  days  of  the  discovery  and 
conquest  of  the  New  World;  but  even  to  this 
day,  and  right  here  on  and  about  the  great  plaza, 
you  see  unimpeachable  testimony  to  this  heathen 
temple's  storied  splendor. 

This  grand  plaza  is  still,  as  it  was  when  Cortes 
first  entered  it  as  the  invited  guest  of  the  great 
Indian  city,  the  heart  of  Mexico.  The  palace 
built,  or  rather  begun,  by  Cortes  stands  on  the 
eastern  side  of  the  great  square.  This  palace  is 
the  largest  in  the  world.  It  is  not  the  finest 
palace  in  the  world,  but  it  is  the  broadest ;  cover- 
ing more  acres  of  ground  than  any  other  palace 
or  public  building  of  any  sort  that  I  have  seen  in 
all  my  travels.  It  is  a  low  and  ugly  edifice  and 
is  built,  for  the  most  part,  out  of  the  stones  of  the 
overthrown  Temple  to  the  Sun. 


In  the  Grand  Plaza  of  Mexico 

Every  Monday  morning  all  Mexico,  or  at  least 
all  the  idle  and  curious  and  pleasure-seeking  por- 
tion of  Mexico,  —  and  that  is  a  large  portion  of 
the  citizens, —  comes  to  this  plaza  to  hear  the  band 
play  and  see  the  troops  deploy  before  the  palace 


The  President  and  his  officers,  all  in  brilliant  uni- 
forms, sit  or  stand  on  the  upper  balcony  of  the 
palace  and  review  the  troops.  There  are  always 
many  ladies  with  the  President  and  his  officers,  — 
many  of  them  American  ladies,  —  and  there  is 

C'7] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


often  much  cheering  and  patriotic  enthusiasm. 
The  musjc  is  very  good,  as  in  all  Latin  lands. 

The  Mexican  soldier,  as  seen  here  at  these  cos- 
tume parades,  is  a  queer,  pitiful  little  fellow,  and 
he  is- still  more  queer  and  pitiful  as  you  see  him 
out  of  the  city  marching  up  and  down  the  country. 

It  is  the  policy  of  Mexico  to  keep  her  soldiers 
constantly  moving  about;  and  as  the  Mexican 
soldier  usually  has  his  wife  and  children  with 
him,  he  cuts  a  queer  figure  when  marching  up 
and  down  the  country  from  town  to  town.  At 
such  times  he  is  always  barefooted;  and  at  best 
he  has,  as  a  rule,  only  wooden  sandals  to  wear. 
When  marching  in  the  country  he  generally  has 
his  pantaloons  and  coat  rolled  up  and  tied  in  a 
bundle  along  with  his  blanket  and  provisions. 
His  bundle  the  wife  generally  has  on  her  head 
as  she  trots  along  at  his  side. 

The  poor  little  brown  soldier,  his  naked  skin 
glistening  like  polished  copper  in  the  sun,  nearly 
always  has  a  child  in  his  arms.  His  affection  for 
his  little  brown  children  is  truly  beautiful.  As 
night  approaches  and  the  troops  are  nearing  the 
place  to  camp,  the  women  go  on  before  with  their 
burdens  on  their  heads  and  their  babies  on  their 


The  Cathedral  in  Mexico 

[19] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


backs,  and  make  fires  and  prepare  the  scanty 
meal;  while  the  poor  little  brown  soldiers  trim 
up  their  irregular  lines  a  bit,  and  enter  camp  with 
a  show  of  discipline  under  the  sharp  orders  of  the 
handsome  officers. 

When  the  bands  play  in  the  grand  plaza  and 
the  troops  deploy  and  the  glistening  brass  cannon 
rumble  and  trundle  over  the  big  cobblestones,  you 
see  thousands  of  women  and  children  on  the  edge 
of  the  square  watching  it  all  with  intense  delight, 
for  to  many  of  them  this  is  their  first  glimpse  of 
the  great  palace  and  the  President  of  Mexico. 

After  an  hour  of  rather  awkward  parade  over 
the  ugly  cobblestones  and  under  the  eye  of  the 
President,  one  regiment  after  another  is  permitted 
to  melt  away,  and  drop  out  in  a  "  go  as  you  please  " 
march  again  for  the  country. 

Ah,  then  you  should  see  the  wives,  the  babies, 
who  have  been  noting  the  brave  soldiers' all  this 
time  !  They  struggle  forward,  they  clasp  husband 
or  father  by  the  neck,  hand,  anywhere  that  they 
can  get  hold  of  him.  They  praise  his  beauty  and 
his  soldierly  bearing,  they  insist  on  carrying  his 
gun,  they  kiss  him  over  and  over  again ;  and  he  is 
glad ;  he  is  very  glad.  He  sheds  tears  of  joy  as  he 

[20] 


In  the  Grand  Plaza  of  Mexico 

trudges  on  toward  one  of  the  seven  gates  of  the  city. 
Now  and  then  he  stops,  catches  up  a  half-naked 
child,  presses  it  to  his  heart,  kisses  it  over  and  over 
again,  and  only  sets  its  little  naked  brown  feet  again 
on  the  ground  in  order  to  take  up  another  of  his 
miserable  little  children  and  embrace  it  also. 

All  these  soldiers  are  very,  very  small  men.  I 
have  often  seen  them  fairly  stagger  under  the 
weight  of  their  big,  ugly  muskets  during  a  hot 
day's  march  in  the  country.  At  such  times  the 
little  children  lie  thick  along  the  line  of  march 
under  cactus  plants  and  in  the  shadow  of  stone 
walls,  nearly  dead  from  exhaustion,  waiting  for 
the  poor,  tired  father  to  come  back  and  take  the 
little  starved  things  to  his  heart. 

After  the  palace  the  one  special  object  of 
interest  here  by  this  storied  plaza  of  Mexico  City 
is  the  cathedral.  It  stands  on  the  north  side  of 
the  square  facing  the  sun,  as  did  the  great 
heathen  temple  from  the  ruins  of  which  it  was 
built. 

There  are  many  rare  and  costly  pictures  here 
in  this  glorious  old  cathedral;  and  yet  the  real 
pictures  of  Mexico,  the  pretty  ones,  the  pathetic 
ones,  the  pictures  that  make  you  put  your 

[21] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


handkerchief  to  your  eyes  a  dozen  times  a  day, 
are  people  themselves.  How  loving  they  are ! 
How  true  they  are  to  one  another  in  all  their 
misery,  all  their  abject  ignorance  and  most  piteous 
poverty ! 

There  is  a  little  flower  garden  and  some  great 
trees  in  the  center  of  the  grand  plaza,  and  here 
late  in  the  afternoon  the  band  plays,  and  the  fash- 
ionable people  congregate. 

You  should  see  the  little  brown  gardener  in 
broad  hat  and  narrow  white  breechcloth  at  work 
in  the  flower  garden  here  in  the  grand  plaza  of 
Mexico  City.  You  should  see  him  mow  the 
lawn.  How  does  he  do  it?  In  the  first  place 
he  squats  flat  down  on  his  naked  heels,  and 
then  he  hitches  himself  along  as  fast  as  he  cuts 
away  the  grass,  without  rising  or  even  lifting 
his  head  from  his  work.  And  what  does  he 
mow  with?  It  is  a  little  piece  of  glass,  or 
rather  of  obsidian,  —  the  same  that  he  used  when 
Cortes  came. 

In  digging  up  the  stump  of  a  eucalyptus  tree 
here  last  winter  the  gardener  came  to  a  stone 
which  proved  to  be  a  huge  and  hideous  idol. 
The  government  claims  all  such  discoveries,  and 

[22] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


in  excavating  this  idol  for  the  fine  museum  in  the 
palace,  two  others  were  found.  They  weigh  per- 
haps a  ton  each,  and  had  long  ago  been  tumbled 
down  here,  no  doubt,  by  the  Spaniards  when  they 
destroyed  the  Temple  to  the  Sun.  It  is  said  that 
many  rare  and  curious  things,  as  well  as  much 
gold  and  silver,  are  still  buried  here  on  the  site 
of  the  pagan  temple,  but  only  the  impoverished 
government  can  make  excavations. 

I  have  now  described  the  eastern  and  the  north- 
ern sides  of  the  great  square,  the  palace,  and  the 
cathedral.  The  other  two  sides  are  made  up 
entirely  of  broad  porches.  These  porches  reach 
out  from  fashionable  stores  and  fine  shops  of  all 
sorts,  and  are  turned  into  little  booths  or  bazaars 
by  day  and  on  till  midnight ;  but  from  the  moment 
of  midnight  the  porches  belong  to  the  people  till 
sunrise. 

A  little  before  midnight  those  pretty  little  shops 
that  blaze  and  brighten  all  day  and  till  late  at 
night  begin  to  melt  away.  The  Arab,  the  Turk, 
the  Frenchman,  the  German,  all  sorts  of  store- 
keepers fold  up  their  tents,  and  suddenly  start  out, 
as  the  little  helpless  children  of  the  sun  steal  in 
and  lie  down  to  rest  on  the  hard  stones  of  this 


In  the  Grand  Plaza  of  Mexico 

half  mile  of  porches.  Here  they  rest  till  three  in 
the  morning,  when  the  sudden  sun  comes  pouring 
over  the  low  palace  like  a  silver  sea  and  flooding 
their  faces!  They  spring  to  their  feet  on  the 
instant ;  they  pour  forth  into  the  plaza  in  torrents; 
one,  two,  ten  thousand  people  with  their  kindly 
copper  faces  lifted  to  the  sun ! 

JOAQUIN  MILLER. 


A  MEXICAN  CITY 

WHY  do  people  feel  that  they  must  go  to  Europe 
for  "  change  of  scene  "  ?  This  was  to  me,  while 
living  in  Mexico,  an  ever-recurring  question. 

There  are  many  quarters  of  London  which 
make  visitors  exclaim,  "  How  like  Boston  this  is !  " 
Indeed,  all  great  cities  resemble  one  another  more 
or  less,  and  in  dress  and  manner  their  inhabitants 
have  much  in  common.  In  Europe, quaint  national 
customs  have  to  be  sought  for.  On  the  contrary, 
the  moment  one  sets  foot  in  Mexico  one  knows 
that  he  is  in  a  foreign  land.  The  new  and  the 
picturesque  appear  at  every  turn. 

Visit,  for  instance,  the  green  old  city  of  Fuerte, 
on  the  river  Fuerte,  in  the  northern  state  of  Sina- 
loa.  I  saw  it  first  on  a  March  day,  at  the  end  of 
a  dusty  stage  journey  from  Alamos.  Orange  and 
paradise  trees  in  the  little  plaza  perfumed  all  the 
air,  and  made  an  atmosphere  one  never  could  for- 
get. These  trees  are  the  more  delightful  because 
they  grow  in  the  most  arid  lands  on  the  earth. 

[26] 


A  Mexican  City 


The  entire  seaboard  in  this  part  of  Mexico  is 
naturally  treeless  and  waterless.  "  El  Fuertc " 
means  "  the  fort,"  and  this  place  was  an  old  strong- 
hold, protecting  the  coast  from  the  Indians. 

Fuerte  is  the  dullest  of  dull  towns.  An  occa- 
sional bullfight  creates  a  little  movement  for  a 
day  or  two,  but  that  is  all.  The  streets  are  poorly 
paved,  the  brick  sidewalks  are  narrow.  The  build- 
ings are  mostly  of  one  high  story,  though  there 
are  a  few  two-story  dwellings. 

As  at  the  state  capital,  Culiacan,  at  Guaymas, 
and  at  other  places,  one  of  the  important  edifices 
is  an  unfinished  cathedral  —  unfinished  since  the 
time  of  the  Indian  president,  Benito  Juarez,  who 
dealt  the  Catholic  Church  an  almost  crushing  blow. 

There  is  appearance  of  life  in  one  quarter,  where 
a  house  is  being  roofed,  and  we  stop  to  watch  the 
workmen.  A  Mexican  gentleman  in  a  suit  of 
white  linen  directs  them.  He  wears  the  native 
sombrero  of  gray  felt,  broad  in  the  brim,  tall  and 
pointed  in  the  crown,  and  trimmed  with  a  band 
of  silver  braid  or  a  heavy  gilt  or  silver  cord  and 
tassels. 

The  Indian  workmen  everywhere,  and  the  peons 
also,  wear  wretched  clothing  all  of  one  pattern  and 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


made  of  mania,  the  coarse  cotton  cloth  woven  in 
the  native  mills.  On  the  head  they  wear  coarse 
straw  hats,  and  on  their  feet  sandals  of  rawhide. 

These  sandals!  It  is  a  wonder  they  can  be 
worn  at  all.  A  friend  once  brought  me  a  pair 
of  sandals  from  Sinaloa.  Said  he, "  I  have  tramped 
miles  in  those  sandals."  It  was  difficult  to  believe 
he  had  ever  traveled  ten  rods  in  them.  I  tried 
them  one  day  for  garden  work,  making  a  hole 
through  the  stocking  for  the  fastening  cord  to 
pass  between  the  toes.  The  experiment  lasted 
about  ten  minutes.  It  is  said  that  those  who 
know  how  to  wear  them  keep  the  sand  from  get- 
ting between  them  and  the  feet  by  a  certain  way 
of  walking.  It  is  true  that  the  Mexican  sandal 
wearers  often  have  feet  that  an  artist  would  like 
to  model. 

To  return  to  the  roof  finishers :  they  have  large 
vats  containing  a  sort  of  mucilage  which  is  made 
by  laboriously  pounding,  and  then  soaking  in  water 
for  a  day  or  more,  the  limbs  of  a  certain  kind  of 
cactus  with  which  the  country  abounds.  With 
this  they  mix  a  mortar  of  lime  and  sand  and  lay 
it  over  the  bricks,  pressing  it  well  between  the 
cracks. 


A  Mexican  City 


Then  they  mix  pure  lime  with  this  mucilage, 
pour  it  on  the  roof  little  by  little  and,  getting  down 
on  hands  and  knees,  commence  the  laborious 
process  of  rubbing  it  in,  working  hours  or  even 
days,  painfully  rubbing  with  a  wooden  trowel 
until  the  whole  surface  is  dry  and  almost  as 
smooth  as  glass.  When  properly  made,  these 
roofs  are  said  to  last  a  lifetime  and  never  to  leak. 

The  windows  of  this  house,  and  of  all  the  better 
houses  in  cities,  are  protected  by  vertical  iron  bars, 
but  they  rarely  have  glass.  Wire  nettings  to  keep 
out  insects  are  sometimes  seen,  and  there  are 
always  shutters  and  frequently  expensive  cur- 
tains. The  shutters  are  never  used,  even  in  win- 
ter, to  keep  out  cold  —  only  as  a  protection  against 
wind  and  beating  rain. 

Doors  and  windows  seem,  indeed,  to  be  open 
night  and  day ;  and  in  some  streets  of  the  cities  of 
northern  Mexico  one  is  likely,  if  abroad  after  night- 
fall, to  stumble  over  a  sleeper  who  evidently  found 
that  his  open  house  was  too  warm  withal,  and  who 
therefore  carried  his  bed  to  the  sidewalk. 

Such  an  occurrence  serves  to  show  one  how 
indispensable  the  inner  court  is  to  a  Mexican 
family.  The  house  would  be  next  to  useless 

[*93 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


without  this  open  space,  which  is  larger  or 
smaller,  more  or  less  beautifully  furnished  with 
flowers,  trees,  fountains,  and  statues,  according 

to  the  pretensions  of  the 
home. 

Under  the  peristyle  of 
the  court,  into  wrhich 
all  the   rooms  open, 
the  family  lives 
most  of  the   time. 
Here  the  tables  are 
spread,  and  here, 
in  the   very 
£    warm  weather, 
|  the    cots    are    brought    at 
5Jf  njght.      Here   visitors   are 
^  seated    and    offered    fruits 
and    the    inevitable     ciga- 
--    rette,  which  elderly  ladies 

7     > f          often  smoke,  but  younger 

ones,  especially  those  of  the 

higher  class,  very  seldom. 

In  the  large  court  of  the  governor's  house  in 

Culiacan  I  saw,  three  years  ago,  one  of  the  most 

beautiful  trailing  vines  imaginable.     It  was  called 

[30] 


A  Mexican  City 


the  garambilla.  It  completely  concealed  its 
trellis  on  the  under  as  well  as  the  upper  side.  It 
was  about  six  or  eight  feet  wide ;  it  spanned  the 
whole  court,  which  must  have  been  twenty-five 
feet  in  the  center,  and  was  one  mass  of  dark  crim- 
son. Hardly  a  leaf  of  the  vine  could  be  seen,  even 

on  the  underside  of  the  trellis. 
;^kMM^       That    particular    court    was 


unusually  beautiful.  It  had  a  fountain  and 
basin,  rare  ferns  and  water  plants,  and  exquisite 
plants  in  costly  imported  vases  standing  upon 
fine  pedestals.  The  odor  of  lilies,  roses,  heli- 
otropes, jasmine,  and  many  others  I  could  not 
name,  beside  the  peerless  paraiso,  made  the  air 
delicious. 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


The  visitor  always  -wonders  why  flowers  in 
Mexico  flourish  in  courts  where  the  high  walls 
exclude  the  sun  many  hours  of  the  day.  And 
not  only  are  there  walls,  but  also  trees,  the  cocoa- 
nut  palm  being  very  common.  Perhaps  it  is  that 
as  we  go  south  vegetation  cares  less  and  less  for 
sunlight. 

Standing  under  that  great  arch  of  the  garambilla, 
dreamily  listening  to  the  liquid  plash  and  flow  of 
the  fountain,  one  might  think  oneself  in  a  land  of 
enchantment  if  there  were  nothing  to  recall  the 
miseries  of  the  people.  There  seems  to  be  no 
such  thing  in  Mexico  as  a  decent  home  for  a 
wage  earner.  There  are  no  courts  for  him,  unless 
he  chances  to  inhabit,  with  many  others,  one  of 
the  old  mansions,  now  fallen  to  decay  and  ruin ; 
and  in  this  court  the  flowers  and  statues  are 
replaced  by  rubbish. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  frugality  of  these 
people's  lives.  Practically  they  eat  nothing  but 
maize,  beans,  and  bananas.  If  they  drink  the 
intoxicating  liquor  of  the  country,  it  does  not 
seem  to  harm  them.  On  the  whole,  they  are  very 
healthy.  They  have  nothing  and  want  little; 
they  are  polite  and  grave,  and  though  they 


A  Mexican  City 


sometimes  live  to  be  very  old,  there  is  so  little  to 
mark  their  lives  that  often  they  do  not  know  how 
old  they  are. 

Yet  if  one  considers  the  people  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  picturesque,  much  of  interest  is  to 
be  found  outside  the  beautiful  homes  of  one's 
friends.  Study,  for  instance, 
the  water  carriers  of  Mexico, 
—  donkeys  and  women  ! 

The  burro,  or  native  don- 
key,  was,  until  three  years 
ago,  the  only  "  water  works  " 
that  the  city  of  Guaymas 
could  boast  of;  and  yet  it 
had  long  had  a  railroad,  a 
street-car  service,  and  an  American  consulate. 
Guaymas,  which  lies  in  the  most  arid  spot  along 
the  whole  coast,  on  a  beautiful  harbor  which 
seems  like  a  volcano's  crater  in  the  midst  of 
bare  rocks,  now  conveys  water  in  pipes;  and  so 
does  Culiacan,  but  Fuerte  still  depends  upon  the 
classic  burro. 

Indians  are  employed  to  lead  the  burro  into  the 
river,  fill  the  two  skins  slung  across  his  strong  lit- 
tle back,  drive  him  from  house  to  house  or  from 

[33] 


Natives 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


court  to  court,  and  distribute  the  water  in  the  great 
brown  earthen  ollas  kept  there  for  the  purpose. 
As  the  burro  jogs  along  the  water  is  always  drip- 
ping from  the  skin  bags,  generally  from  the  queer 
sort  of  faucet  used.  This  is  a  plug,  which  is  placed 
inside  and  adjusts  itself  by  gravitation.  A  string 
attached  to  the  plug  passes  up  through  the  top  or 
mouth  of  the  bag,  and  this  the  carrier  pulls  when 
he  delivers  water.  The  vessel  rilled,  all  he  has  to 
do  is  to  let  go  the  string.  It  is  a  labor-saving 
contrivance  dear  to  his  heart. 

In  the  country,  and  in  cities  where  the  dwelling 
is  near  a  well  or  natural  supply  of  water,  the  women 
carry  the  water  in  ollas,  shaped  much  like  the 
ordinary  fish  globe,  almost  spherical,  and  having 
a  more  or  less  flaring  lip  about  two  inches  wide. 
The  pad  or  cushion  on  which  the  olla  rests  is 
made  by  rolling  a  towel  from  corner  to  corner 
and  coiling  it  into  a  ring  some  four  inches  across, 
passing  the  ends  one  over  and  the  other  under,  to 
make  it  firm  and  solid.  The  olla  filled  and  the 
pad  adjusted,  the  woman  places  her  open  hands 
on  opposite  sides  of  the  olla,  just  below  its  largest 
part,  raises  it,  straightening  up  at  the  same  time, 
and  carries  it  to  the  top  of  the  head.  It  is 

[34] 


A  Mexican  City 


wonderful  to  see  how  easily  and  gracefully  these 
women  lift  and  bear  such  heavy  burdens. 

It  is  said  that  the  excellent  health  of  the 
Mexican  women,  and  also  the  robustness  of  their 
children,  are  largely  due  to  carrying  the  olla. 
Physicians  say  that  any  youth,  or  even  an  adult, 
if  not  too  old,  may  straighten  a  crooked  spine  or 
a  stoop  in  the  shoulders  by  carrying  weights  upon 
the  head  for  a  short  time  every  day.  But  I  do  not 
recommend  water  for  the  first  attempt ! 

MARIE  ROWLAND. 


[35] 


A  GROWING  MOUNTAIN 

ON  the  coast  of  Central  America,  in  the  little 
republic  of  Salvador,  so  near  the  ocean  that  it 
may  be  seen  from  the  decks  of  passing  ships,  is 
a  mountain  that  grows.  There  is  another  remark- 
able fact  about  Izalco,  as  the  mountain  is  called, 
for  it  is  not  only  increasing  in  height  all  the  time, 
but  it  is  the  most  violent  and  constant  of  all  vol- 
canoes. Every  little  while,  from  one  year's  end 
to  the  other,  it  spouts  vast  quantities  of  fire,  lava, 
and  ashes,  which  fall  in  a  shower  and  wrap  its 
sides  for  a  thousand  feet  below  the  summit  with 
a  blanket  of  living  coals. 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  a  grander  spectacle 
than  is  presented  at  night  to  the  passengers  upon 
ships  that  go  that  way.  No  one  goes  to  bed  on  the 
steamer  till  the  mountain  is  out  of  sight.  Travelers 
go  a  long  distance  to  see  it  and  are  always  willing 
to  admit  that  the  journey  repaid  them. 

The  mountain  rises  nearly  seven  thousand  feet, 
and  as  its  base  is  almost  in  the  sea  it  looks  much 

[36] 


A  Growing  Mountain 


higher.  An  immense  plume  of  smoke  -ascends 
from  the  crater.  The  incessant  bursts  of  flame, 
mounting  five  hundred  feet  every  little  while,  can 
be  seen  for  more  than  a  hundred  miles  in  clear 
weather.  The  mountain  has  been  called  "  the 
lighthouse  of  Salvador,"  and  the  shipping  on  the 
coast  needs  no  other  beacon  so  far  as  the  mountain 
can  be  seen. 

Around  the  base  of  the  volcano  are  productive 
sugar  plantations,  with  a  railway  running  through 
them.  Then  comes  a  wide  strip  of  timber,  —  an 
almost  impenetrable  forest.  Beyond  the  forest, 
and  between  the  timber  line  and  the  summit,  is 
a  belt  of  ashes  and  lava  which  is  constantly  receiv- 
ing accessions  from  the  crater,  and  every  few  min- 
utes changes  from  a  livid  yellow,  when  the  ashes 
are  hot,  to  a  silver  gray,  as  they  begin  to  cool. 

At  night  the  effect  is  very  fine.  At  each  erup- 
tion there  is  a  violent  explosion,  like  the  discharge 
of  a  thousand  cannon,  and  afterward  a  terrible  rum- 
bling is  heard  beneath  the  surface  of  the  earth. 

Izalco  arose  suddenly  from  a  plain  in  the  spring 
of  1 770,  in  the  midst  of  what  had  been  for  nearly  a 
hundred  years  a  profitable  sugar  plantation.  The 
owner  was  absent  on  a  visit  to  Spain  at  the  time, 

[37] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


and  was  greatly  amazed  on  his  return  to  discover 
that  his  farm  had  been  exchanged,  without  his 
knowledge  or  consent,  for  a  volcano. 

It  was  in  December,  1769,  that  the  peons  on 
the  plantation  first  noticed  that  something  was 
wrong  underneath.  Although  they  were  accus- 
tomed to  slight  earthquakes,  they  became  fright- 
ened at  the  unusual  rumblings  and  growlings  in 
the  earth.  They  decided  to  -leave  the  place,  and 
got  away  not  a  moment  too  soon.  A  few  days 
later,  when  some  of  the  most  venturesome  went 
back  to  see  how  the  animals  were  getting  on, 
they,  discovered  that  all  the  buildings  had  been 
destroyed,  that  great  trees  had  been  uprooted, 
and  large  craters  had  opened  in  the  fields,  from 
which  came  smoke  and  flames,  though  apparently 
there  had  been  no  great  eruption. 

A  party  of  shepherds,  braver  than  the  rest, 
decided  to  remain  in  the  neighborhood  and  await 
developments;  and  on  the  23d  of  February,  1770, 
they  were  entertained  by  a  spectacle  that  perhaps 
no  other  men  were  ever  permitted  to  witness, - 
the  birth  of  a  mountain.  It  was  about  ten  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  as  they  afterward  said,  when  the 
grand  upheaval  took  place. 

[38] 


A  Growing  Mountain 


First  came  a  series  of  terrific  explosions  which 
lifted  the  crust  of  the  earth  in  a  pile  several  hun- 
dred feet  high,  and  from  the  opening  issued  flames 
and  lava,  with  masses  of  smoke.  An  hour  or  two 
later  there  was  another  and  more  terrible  convul- 
sion, which  shook  the  country  for  hundreds  of 
miles  around  and  did  great  damage  in  the  neigh- 
boring towns. 

Rocks  weighing  thousands  of  tons  were  lifted 
high  in  the  air,  and  fell  several  miles  distant.  The 
surface  of  the  earth  bulged  up  nearly  three  thou- 
sand feet,  and  vast  masses  of  rocks  were  piled 
around  the  crater  from  which  they  issued. 

These  terrible  earthquakes  continued  for  several 
days,  and  great  damage  was  done  in  the  neighbor- 
ing states  of  Nicaragua  and  Honduras,  as  well  as 
in  San  Salvador.  In  less  than  two  months,  from 
a  level  field  arose  a  mountain  more  than  four 
thousand  feet  high.  The  discharges  from  the 
crater  from  that  time  to  this  have  accumulated 
around  the  edges  until  the  pile  has  reached  nearly 
seven  thousand  feet,  and  it  is  still  growing.  Unfor- 
tunately the  growth  of  the  monster  has  not  been 
scientifically  observed  or  accurately  measured.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  measure  it,  for  the  surface  of 

[39] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


the  cone,  down  to  two  thousand  feet  from  the  sum- 
mit, is  always  covered  with  hot  lava  over  which 
no  man  could  climb,  and  even  if  the  heat  could 
be  endured,  the  fumes  of  sulphur  would  suffocate 
one. 

Within  view  of  the  city  of  San  Salvador  are 
eleven  great  volcanoes,  one  other  beside  Izalco 
being  constantly  active,  while  the  others  are  sub- 
ject to  occasional  eruptions. 

The  nearest  peak  is  the  mountain  of  San  Sal- 
vador, which  is  about  eight  thousand  feet  high  and 
shows  to  great  advantage  as  it  rises  abruptly  from 
the  plain.  It  is  only  three  miles  from  the  city  to 
the  base  of  the  mountain,  but  the  sides  are  so 
broken  by  monstrous  gorges  and  projecting  cliffs 
that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  climb  it. 

The  summit  is  crowned  by  a  cone  of  ashes  and 
lava  that  fell  there  centuries  ago;  but  since  the 
spring  of  1854,  when  the  most  serious  earthquake 
the  country  has  known  took  place,  the  crater  has 
been  extinct,  and  is  now  filled  with  a  lake  of  clear, 
cold  water. 

Lying  to  the  seaward  of  the  volcanoes,  and  not 
far  from  the  city  of  San  Salvador,  is  a  forest  of 
balsam  trees  about  six  hundred  square  miles  in 

[40] 


A  Growing  Mountain 


extent,  which  is  inhabited  by  a  curious  race  of 
Indians.  These  people  are  little  altered  from  their 
primitive  condition,  and  are  permitted  to  remain 


there  undisturbed 
and  enjoy  the  profits 
derived  from  the  sale  of  balsam. 
The  forest  is  full  of  footpaths  which  are  so 
intricate  as  to  baffle  strangers  who  try  to  enter, 
and  it  is  not  safe  to  make  the  attempt,  as  the 
Indians,  peaceable  enough  when  they  come  out 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


to  mingle  with  the  other  inhabitants  of  the 
country,  violently  resent  any  intrusion  into  their 
stronghold. 

They  keep  their  common  earnings  in  a  treasure 
box,  to  be  distributed  by  the  old  men  among  the 
families  as  their  necessities  require.  There  is  a 
prevailing  impression  that  the  tribe  has  an  enor- 
mous sum  of  money  in  its  possession,  since  its 
earnings  are  large  and  the  wants  of  the  people 
are  few.  The  surplus  existing  at  the  end  of  each 
year  is  supposed  to  be  buried  in  a  sacred  spot 
with  religious  ceremonies.  These  Indians,  who 
are  temperate  and  industrious,  are  known  to 
history  as  the  Nahuatls,  but  are  commonly  spoken 
of  as  "  Balsimos." 

Although  San  Salvador  is  the  smallest  in  area 
of  the  group  of  Central  American  republics,  being 
smaller  than  Massachusetts,  it  is  the  most  pros- 
perous, the  most  enterprising,  and  the  most  densely 
populated,  having  about  as  many  inhabitants  as 
Connecticut.  The  natives  are  engaged  not  only 
in  agriculture,  but  quite  extensively  in  manufac- 
tures. They  are  more  energetic  and  industrious 
than  the  people  in  other  parts  of  Central  America 
and  gain  wealth  rapidly;  but  the  constantly 

[42] 


A  Growing  Mountain 


recurring  earthquakes  and  political  disturbances 
keep  the  country  poor. 

San  Salvador  has  always  taken  the  lead  in  the 
political  affairs  of  Central  America.  It  was  the 
first  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  Spain.  After  sev- 
eral ineffectual  attempts  to  gain  independence,  the 
Salvadorian  Congress,  by  an  act  passed  on  the 
2d  of  December,  1822,  resolved  to  annex  the  little 
province  to  the  United  States,  and  provided  for 
the  appointment  of  commissioners  to  proceed  to 
Washington  and  ask  its  incorporation  in  the  great 
republic. 

Before  the  commissioners  could  leave  the  coun- 
try the  revolutions  throughout  Central  America 
had  become  too  formidable  to  suppress.  The  five 
states  joined  in  a  confederacy  one  year  after  the 
act  of  annexation  was  passed,  and  the  resolution 
was  never  officially  submitted  to  the  government 

of  the  United  States. 

W.  E.  CURTIS. 


[43] 


A  VENEZUELAN   RAILWAY 

THERE  are  few  more  interesting  engineering 
achievements  than  the  little  narrow-gauge  railroad 
running  to  Caracas,  the  capital  of  Venezuela,  from 
its  seaport,  La  Guayra.  The  distance  between 
the  two  cities,  as  the  crow  flies,  —  supposing  for 
the  moment  that  he  could  fly  straight  through  the 
mountain,  —  is  only  six  miles;  but  the  railway 
connecting  them  is  twenty-three  miles  in  length, 
and  constantly  twists  and  turns  on  itself. 

The  road  runs  in  zigzag  fashion  up  the  moun- 
tain to  an  altitude  of  about  fifty-one  hundred  feet 
above  its  starting  point,  and  then  descends  some 
fifteen  hundred  feet  in  the  same  manner  into  the 
valley  of  Caracas. 

Twenty-two  thousand  rails  were  used  in  laying 
the  track,  and  of  these  over  eighteen  thousand 
are  bent.  It  is  jestingly  said  that  the  engineer 
almost  died  of  a  broken  heart,  because  he  could 
invent  no  excuse  for  bending  the  remaining  four 
thousand.  He  did  his  best,  however,  and  no  one 

[44] 


A  Venezuelan  Railway 


who  has  to  ride  over  the  road,  and  finds  himself 
shaken  at  every  one  of  the  three  hundred  and 
forty-six  sharp  twists  which  the  track  makes,  will 
find  it  in  his  heart  to  condemn  the  poor  man  for 
not  making  a  perfect  job. 

Two  passenger  trains  each  way  pass  over  the 
road  daily,  leaving  La  Guayra  at  half-past  eight 
in  the  morning  and  at  half-past  three  in  the  after- 
noon, making  the  journey  in  two  hours  and  a 
half.  This  is  a  speed,  exclusive  of  stops,  of  not 
quite  ten  miles  an  hour. 

Each  train  consists  of  a  locomotive,  a  baggage 
car,  and  two  or  three  passenger  coaches  about  the 
size  of  a  street  car  in  northern  cities.  The  seats 
run  lengthwise  through  the  car,  —  an  arrangement 
necessitated  by  the  narrow  gauge  of  the  road. 

The  fare  for  the  twenty-three  miles  is  two 
dollars  and  a  half  first-class,  and  one  dollar  and 
sixty  cents  second.  The  accommodations  are 
equally  bad  in  the  cars  of  the  two  classes;  the 
only  visible  difference  between  the  two  is  that 
the  first-class  car  is  the  less  crowded. 

As  we  leave  the  little  station  at  La  Guayra,  we 
take  a  serpentine  course  for  about  a  mile  through 
cocoanut  groves  along  the  sea.  Why  the  road 

[45] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


does  not  take  a  straight  course  through  this  first 
portion  of  the  way,  the  constructor  only  knows, 
for  the  ground  is  level,  and  there  are  no  obstruc- 
tions more  serious  than  a  cocoanut  palm  or  a 
banana  plant. 

After  writhing  along  the  beach  for  a  short 
time,  we  suddenly  'make  a  sharp  turn,  and  then 
begins  the  climb  up  the  face  of  the  mountain. 

Up,  up,  up  we  go,  turning  now  to  the  right  and 
again  to  the  left,  then  making  what  seems  to  be 
an  almost  complete  circle,  now  passing  through  a 
tunnel  —  where  we  are  nearly  stifled  by  the  hot  air 
and  gases  from  the  engine,  which  sweep  through 
the  open  cars,  carrying  with  them  cinders  that  burn 
holes  in  the  clothes,  or  raise  blisters  where  they 
touch  the  unprotected  skin.  Then  we  emerge 
from  the  hole  in  the  mountain  side  at  a  place 
where  we  appear  to  be  on  the  point  of  jumping 
over  the  precipice  one  or  two  thousand  feet  sheer 
down  into  the  water  that  laps  its  base. 

We  have  forgotten  for  a  moment  the  con- 
structor's passion  for  curves.  We  make  two  or 
three  short  turns,  as  if  uncertain  of  our  course, 
and  then  twist  sharply  round  and  go  back  the 
way  we  came.  As  we  look  down  from  the  car 

[46] 


A  Venezuelan  Railway 


window  we  see  the  track  over  which  we  have 
just  passed  about  fifty  feet  from  us  and  directly 
beneath  us. 

Suddenly  we  stop.    We  won- 
der  what  has  hap- 
pened, for  there  is 
no  house 
in  sight, 
it 


would 
?'"  be  diffi- 
cult indeed 
for  any  one  to 
find  a  spot  on 
which  to  perch  a  house, 
^  so  steep  is  the  declivity. 
The  only  thing  visible 
except  trees  and  ^    rocks   is   a   large  iron  pipe 

[47] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


running  over  wooden  supports  through  a  small 
ravine ;  and  now  we  see  that  it  carries  water  for 
the  refreshment  of  our  thirsty  little  engine.  Six 
times  we  stop  in  this  way  in  our  wild  climb  up 
the  mountain  side,  to  take  breath  and  water  our 
engine,  until  we  cross  the  highest  point  and  begin 
to  slide  down  to  Caracas.  In  going  down  the 
mountain  on  either  side  gravity  is  the  only  pro- 
pulsive force  employed,  steam  being  kept  up 
merely  to  work  the  brakes  and  prevent  too  rapid 
a  descent. 

There  is  but  one  station  between  La  Guayra 
and  Caracas,  and  this  the  railroad  people  have 
most  appropriately  named  Zigzag.  Here  the 
trains  from  opposite  directions  meet  and  pass 
each  other. 

As  soon  as  the  engine  has  filled  its  boiler,  it 
gives,  one  long  shriek  of  warning,  the  passengers 
climb  into  the  little  cars,  and  we  follow  once  more 
the  giddy  trail. 

The  scenery,  as  viewed  from  the  window  of  our 
car,  is  grand ;  but  in  order  to  enjoy  it  thoroughly 
one  must  possess  strong  nerves.  At  our  feet,  a 
thousand  meters  below,  we  see  a  faint  streak, 
which  is  the  narrow  beach  on  which  La  Guayra 

[48] 


A  Venezuelan  Railway 


lies.  The  houses  in  the  town  look  like  dice,  and 
the  men  and  donkeys  in  the  streets  have  become 
invisible. 

Beyond,  stretching  away  to  the  horizon,  now 
vastly  extended  by  reason  of  our  elevation,  we 
see  the  sparkling  blue  waters  of  the  West  Indian 
Ocean.  A  mere  speck  which  we  can  hardly  dis- 
cern on  the  surface  of  the  sea  is  the  ship  which 
brought  us  to  this  coast,  and  which  left  for  the 
chilly  North  an  hour  before  we  began  our  cloud- 
ward  climb. 

If  we  turn  and  look  ahead,  we  see  the  mountain 
rising  up  ever  higher  and  higher,  until  its  peak  is 
lost  in  the  cloud  that  always  clings  to  it.  The 
air,  which  was  so  hot  and  sultry  on  the  coast,  is 
growing  more  and  more  fresh  as  we  ascend,  and 
it  becomes  almost  chilly  as  the  cloud  hugging  the 
mountain  top  receives  us  and  draws  the  curtain 
which  hides  from  our  view  the  beauties  of  nature 
as  well  as  the  dangers  which  encompass  us. 

Dangerous  as  the  ascent  of  the  mountain 
appears  to  be,  and  really  is,  accidents  are  fortu- 
nately rare,  owing  to  the  constant  vigilance  exer- 
cised by  the  officials  of  the  road.  Landslides 
do  occasionally  take  place,  nevertheless,  and  no 

[49] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


amount  of  watchfulness  can  prevent  them,  or 
even  give  warning  of  their  occurrence.  The 
roadbed  in  many  places  is  a  mere  scratch  in 
the  side  of  the  mountain,  barely  wide  enough 
to  permit  the  passage  of  the  narrow  cars.  The 
outer  rail  is  often  laid  within  a  few  inches  of 
the  edge  of  the  precipice,  so  that  in  looking  from 
the  window  one  sees  nothing  but  the  bottom 
of  the  ravine  hundreds  of  feet  below. 

While  the  road  was  building,  it  was  frequently 
found  necessary  to  lower  men  by  long  ropes  from 
above  until  they  could  make  for  themselves  a 
foothold  by  means  of  pick  and  shovel. 

When  one  realizes  how  much  labor  and  money 
have  been  expended  in  forcing  this  way  through 
almost  inconceivable  natural  obstacles,  it  seems 
indeed  a  pity  that  such  a  triumph  of  engineering 
skill  should  be  doomed  to  an  ephemeral  existence ; 
but  already  the  freight  and  passenger  traffic  taxes 
the  capacity  of  the  road  to  its  utmost. 

Work  is  already  being  rapidly  pushed  forward 
by  an  American  company  on  a  new  route  between 
La  Guayra  and  Caracas,  which  is  to  pass  under  the 
mountain  through  a  tunnel  four  miles  in  length. 

THOMAS  L.  STEDMAN. 
[So] 


'•  -, 


[Si] 


AN  EVENING  IN  A  BRAZILIAN 
FOREST 

LET  us  wander  in  imagination  through  a  Bra- 
zilian forest,  just  as  the  burning  heat  of  day  is 
passing  into  the  cool  of  evening.     As  yet  nature 
seems  asleep,  and  a  solemn  silence  reigns  under 
the  shade  of  the  colossal  forest 
trees,  some  nearly  two  hundred 
feet  high;  the  Brazil-nut  and 
monkey -cup  trees,  the  king 
tree  and  the  cow  tree,  which 
spread  their  vast  cupolas  of 
foliage  over  the  smaller  cecro- 
pias;    tree    ferns    and    palms 
which,    though    smaller,    are 
some   of   them   from  fifty  to 
a  hundred  feet  high. 

By  and  by,  as  we  look  up  into  the  branches 
of  a  cecropia  tree,  we  see  a  hairy  mass  resting  in 
the  fork  between  a  bough  and  the  trunk  and 
barely  visible,  so  like  is  the  tint  of  the  hair  to 


An  Evening  in  a  Brazilian  Forest 

the  lichens  and  dead-brown  mosses  which  clothe 
the  bark.  This  mass  is  a  sloth,  grasping  the 
bough  firmly  with  his  clawed  feet,  as  he  sleeps 
through  the  heat  of  the  day.  It  is  only  when 
the  cool  of  evening  sets  in  that  he  will  wake  up 
to  feed,  and  move  quickly  along  from  tree  to  tree, 
grappling  each  branch  as  he  goes  with  his  twisted 
feet,  and  using  his  long  arms  and  supple  wrists 
to  reach  to  the  tips  of  the  boughs  for  tender 
growing  shoots,  which  he  tears  off  and  stuffs 
into  his  mouth  to  chew  with  his  feeble  back 
teeth. 

To  see  him  on  the  ground  when  he  has  to 
cross  an  open  space,  you  would  think  him  a  poor 
creature  at  best,  for  his  ankles  are  so  twisted  that 
he  can  tread  only  on  the  sides  of  his  feet.  His 
toes  are  joined,  and  he  has  three  on  each  foot, 
armed  with  long  claws  very  inconvenient  to  tread 
upon,  and  his  arms  are  so  much  longer  than  his 
legs  that  he  is  obliged  to  drag  himself  along  on 
his  elbows. 

But  when  once  he  has  hoisted  himself  aloft 
again,  these  strange  limbs  serve  him  well.  The 
twisted  ankles  enable  his  claws  to  take  a  firm 
hold  of  the  branches,  his  long  arms  reach  for  his 

[53] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


food,  and   his  unwieldy  neck,  which    has  more 
joints  than   in   other  mammals,  allows   him   to 

[54] 


An  Evening  in  a  Brazilian  Forest 

throw  his  head  backward  to  seek  for  food.  He 
has  no  front  teeth,  but  his  sharp  claws  do  the 
work  instead;  and  his  back  teeth,  though  they 
have  neither  enamel  nor  roots,  continue  to  grow 
up  from  below  as  they  are  worn  away  above. 

In  this  way  the  sloth  makes  the  most  of  the 
primitive  body  that  he  has  inherited  from  his 
ancestors,  which  stood  very  low  in  the  scale  of 
mammals.  If  he  could  relate  the  history  of  his 
forefathers,  it  would  be  an  interesting  one. 

First  he  would  tell  us  that  he  belongs  to  a 
feeble  and  dying  group  of  creatures  who  wander 
in  distant  parts  of  the  world ;  and  that  while  he 
has  two  very  distant  relations  —  the  ant-bear  and 
the  armadillo  —  roaming  about  the  forests  near 
him,  we  must  travel  across  the  sea  to  South 
Africa  to  find  the  other  two  branches  of  the 
family  stem,  aard-varks  and  pangolins. 

It  is  toward  nightfall  that  we  must  look  for  his 
American  compatriots  as,  leaving  the  thicker  parts 
of  the  forest,  we  wander  toward  the  banks  of  the 
river  Amazon  or  some  smaller  stream.  There 
we  may  see  creeping  along  in  the  dark  a  large 
gray,  hairy  animal,  about  four  feet  and  a  half  long, 
with  black  throat  and  shoulders  and  a  line  of 

[55] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


thick  hair  along  his  back,  ending  in  a  bushy  tail, 
three  feet  long,  which  drags  behind  him  on  the 
ground. 

His  front  feet  are  twisted  so  that  he  walks  upon 
the  edge  instead  of  the  sole,  and  his  thin,  tubelike, 
toothless  snout  almost  touches  the  ground  as  he 
moves  along,  his  threadlike  tongue  protruded  at 
intervals  as  though  to  test  the  objects  he  passes. 

This  shambling,  heavy-going  creature  is  the 
great  ant-bear,  and  he  is  in  search  of  ant-hills  and 
termite  (or  white  ant)  mounds,  for  these  animals 
are  his  chief  food.  He  thrusts  into  their  homes 
his  long,  flexible  tongue,  covered  with  sticky 
moisture,  bringing  out  thousands  at  each  thrust. 

His  toothless  mouth,  his  imperfect  collar  bone, 
and  his  twisted,  clawed  feet  with  united  toes,  all 
show  that  he  belongs  to  the  same  low  group  as 
the  sloth. 

The  great  ant-bear  is  very  strong.  The  mus- 
cles of  his  arms  and  shoulders  are  so  powerful 
that  he  can  hug  his  enemies  to  death,  while  his 
strong  claws  once  dug  into  the  flesh  never  loose 
their  hold.  Therefore,  although  he  has  no  teeth, 
he  can  defend  himself  even  against  the  jaguar; 
and  he  does  not  fear  to  wander  freely  and  to 

[56] 


An  Evening  in  a  Brazilian  Forest 

rifle  the  ant  nests  of  the  South  American  forests, 
just  as  his  distant  relative,  the  pangolin,  with  like 
twisted  feet  and  toothless  mouth,  feeds  on  termites 
in  South  Africa,  protected  not  by  strength,  but 
by  scaly  armor. 

Then  is  the  time  that  the  howling  monkeys 
make  the  forest  resound  with  their  cries,  and 
croaking  frogs,  chirping  cicadas,  chattering  par- 
rots, and  yelping  toucans  raise  a  very  Babel  of 
sounds  soon  after  sunset.  It  is  at  this  hour,  or 
perhaps  later,  when  the  evening  chatter  has  sunk 
to  rest,  that  the  tatou,  or  great  armadillo,  about 
three  feet  long,  begins  to  wander,  feeding  upon 
fallen  fruits,  or  digging  deep  burrows  with  his 
long,  powerful  claws  in  search  of  roots  and  grubs. 
He  alone  of  the  American  Edentata,  or  imper- 
fect-toothed animals,  walks  on  the  soles  of  all  four 
feet,  and  in  this,  as  in  many  other  ways,  he  more 
resembles  the  aard-vark,  or  ant-eater  of  South 
Africa,  than  his  companions  in  America. 

But  all  this  time  our  dreamy  sloth  is  waiting 
to  tell  us  the  history  of  the  past,  and  how  it  hap- 
pens that  he  and  his  comrades  have  distant  con- 
nections so  far  away  as  South  Africa,  and  yet 
none  in  other  parts  of  the  world.  If  he  could 

[57] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


speak,  he  would  boast  with  pride,  as  others  have 
done  before  him,  that  there  was  once  a  time  when 
his  family  spread  far  over  the  face  of  the  earth ; 
when  from  India,  Greece,  and  France,  to  the  Mis- 
sissippi valley,  Nebraska,  and  California,  animals 
with  imperfect  teeth  and  immense  claws  wandered 
not  in  trees,  but  on  the  ground. 

This  was  in  hot  Miocene  times,  when  they  were 
among  the  highest  animals  living  on  the  globe ; 
but  as  time  went  on,  and  higher  and  stronger 
creatures — elephants  and  buffaloes,  lions,  tigers, 
leopards,  and  others — killed  them,  or  drove  them 
out  of  the  great  continent,  the  remainder  found 
homes  in  South  Africa  and  South  America. 
Then  came  the  time  when,  cut  off  from  the  world 
to  the  north,  huge  ground  sloths  as  large  as  ele- 
phants ruled  supreme  in  South  America,  walk- 
ing on  their  twisted  fore  feet,  and  instead  of 
climbing  trees,  tore  them  up  by  the  roots  to 
feed  on  their  foliage.  And  with  these  gigantic 
animals  were  others,  nine  feet  long,  the  ancestors 
of  the  armadillos,  with  armor  plates  not  movable, 
but  formed  into  a  solid  shield,  while  to  complete 
the  group  an  ancient  form  of  the  ant-bear  bore 
them  company. 

[58] 


An  Evening  in  a  Brazilian  Forest 

For  long  ages  these  monsters  flourished,  and 
much  later  on  left  their  bones  in  the  bone  caves  of 
Brazil,  where,  mingled  with  more  modern  bones  of 
sloth,  armadillo,  and  ant-bear,  they  tell  the  history 
of  the  past.  And  then 
they  died  out;  and  as 
the  great  Brazilian  for- 
ests flourished  and  over- 
spread the  land,  the  sloth 
and  smaller  ant-bears 
took  refuge  in  an  arboreal  life,  while  the  great 
ant-bear  trusted  to  his  powerful  limbs,  and  the 
armadillo  to  his  plated  armor,  for  protection  in 
their  nightly  wanderings ;  and  thus  they  remained 
to  tell  of  an  ancient  and  once  powerful  race,  now 
leading  a  secluded  life  in  South  American  wilds. 

ARABELLA  B.  BUCKLEY. 


Ant-Bear 


[59] 


LIFE  IN  ASUNCION 

As  soon  as  the  big  side-wheel  steamer  which 
carries  you  to  Asuncion  has  dropped  anchor  near 
the  shore,  your  valise  is  grasped  by  a  sturdy  female 
porter,  who  stands  up  to  her  knees  in  the  water 
alongside.  She  promptly  tosses  it  to  another 
nearer  the  shore,  who  tosses  it  to  a  third,  who 
tosses  it  to  a  fourth,  who  wades  ashore  with  it. 

The  predominance  of  the  feminine  thus  made 
manifest  is  repeated  everywhere  in  Asuncion. 
The  terrible  war  in  which  this  little  country  bat- 
tled for  six  years  against  half  the  continent  of 
South  America  ended  in  a  victory  for  Brazil, 
Uruguay,  and  the  Argentine  Republic,  when 
Paraguay  had  no  men  left  to  fight  them.  The 
population  of  this  city  was  then  in  the  propor- 
tion of  one  man  to  twenty  women.  Although 
there  is  no  such  disproportion  now,  the  female 
is  by  far  the  more  numerous  sex. 

Your  newsboy,  your  bootblack,  your  car  driver, 
milkman,  and  messenger  boy, — all  are  women  or 

[60] 


Life  in  Asuncion 


girls.  The  city  employs  female  street  cleaners. 
My  valise,  having  emerged  safely  from  the  ordeal, 
was  borne  to  the  hotel  by  a  lady  who  wholly  dis- 
dained the  handle,  and  whose  evident  muscular 
power  inspired  me  with  such  respect  that  I  let 
her  carry  it  on  her  head  without  venturing  a 
suggestion. 

The  city  is  built  on  the  side  of  a  steep  hill,  and 
in  going  through  its  streets  one  is  either  climbing, 
or  bracing  oneself  to  avoid  rolling  down  into  the 
river.  Asuncion  is  very  old.  Here  may  be  seen 
entire  streets  just  as  they  were  two  hundred  years 
ago,  when  these  few  acres  now  called  Paraguay 
belonged  to  Spain,  and  the  Jesuits  cultivated  the 
land  and  civilized  the  Indians. 

The  brick  and  stucco  houses  of  Asuncion  are 
low,  ugly,  and  monotonous.  Any  street  is  the 
duplicate  of  all  others.  But  through  these  streets 
passes  an  ever-changing  procession  that  is  full  of 
life  and  interest. 

Peddlers  of  all  kinds  are  here.  With  this  one 
we  have  an  opportunity  of  spending  all  the  money 
we  have  in  exchange  for  beautiful  handmade  lace. 
Her  mother  taught  her  to  make  it,  and  the  mother 
learned  the  secret  from  her  Indian  mother  before 

[61] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


her.  Another  is  selling  native  pottery.  Yonder 
comes  a  dark-faced  cartman  whipping  his  mule 
into  a  gallop.  He  has  been  nowhere;  he  is 
going  nowhere ;  but  he  urges  on  his  mule  with  a 
mixture  of  Indian  and  Spanish  exhortations,  and 
sends  him  rushing  down  the  hill  now  merely  for 
the  fun  of  it. 

Behind  this  latticed  shutter  some  one  is  playing 
the  guitar,  and  singing  plaintively.  In  front  of  the 
government  building  stands  a  gold-laced,  brass- 
buttoned  customs  official,  who  clearly  is  deter- 
mined that  if  the  Paraguayan  government  is 
lacking  in  dignity  it  shall  be  through  no  fault 
of  his. 

Women  pass  with  baskets  of  oranges  and  bana- 
nas on  their  heads.  The  pretty  little  news  girls 
are  as  energetic  as  their  brothers  in  other  cities. 
They  are  accustomed,  however,  to  come  and  ask 
one  gently  if  he  will  please  to  buy  a  paper, 
which  appears  to  answer  the  purpose  quite  as 
well  as  bawling  a  list  of  names  in  one's  car. 
Now  and  then  a  street  car  rumbles  past,  drawn 
by  three  mules  hitched  tandem.  And  finally 
comes  an  old  creature  with  gourd  cups  for 
drinking  mate. 

[62] 


Life  in  Asuncion 


Mate,  sometimes  called  by  barbarous  outsiders 
"  Paraguay  tea,"  is  the  popular  drink  of  the 
entire  southern  part  of  South  America.  The 
herb  from  which  it  is  produced  is  native  to 
Paraguay.  The  growing  plant  somewhat  resem- 
bles catmint.  The  dried  leaves  are  put  into  a 
gourd  cup,  hot  water  is  poured  in,  and  the  tea 
thus  made  is  sucked  through  a  long  silver 
tube. 

Vast  quantities  of  this  product  are  exported 
from  Paraguay.  Should  you  ever  call  at  a  house 
in  South  America,  you  will  no  doubt  be  offered  a 
chair  and  a  cup  of  mate  simultaneously. 

The  rural  Paraguayan  at  home  presents  a 
commendable  example  of  humble  content.  He 
realizes  the  fact  that  he  was  placed  as  he  is  by  a 
power  greater  than  he,  and  he  is  not  so  bigoted 
as  to  take  it  upon  himself  to  meddle  with  his  own 
condition.  Hence  his  condition  is  primitive.  He 
lives  in  a  thatched  mud  house  a  short  distance  from 
the  city,  and  raises  vegetables.  The  native  does 
not  attempt  to  cultivate  most  varieties,  because,  as 
one  of  them  explained  to  me,  the  soil  is  of  such  a 
peculiar  quality  that  the  weeds  grow  rapidly  and 
destroy  the  plant ! 

[63] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


The  manioc,  which  is  the  principal  vegetable 
of  the  country,  resembles  in  form  the  parsnip  and 
in  flavor  the  chestnut.  It  is  the  Paraguay  sub- 
stitute for  the  potato.  It  is  very  nutritious,  and 
as  it  thrives  in  spite  of  weeds  it  is  deemed  worthy 
of  cultivation. 

Besides  manioc,  the  peasant  farmer  grows 
tobacco,  sugar  cane,  bananas,  oranges,  and  yerba 
mate.  He  has  never  tried  to  cultivate  anything 
else.  He  never  will  try.  His  life  is  an  eloquent 
demonstration  of  how  little  will  be  accomplished 
by  the  poor  mortal  who  is  contented. 

When  the  farmer  has  anything  to  sell  he,  or 
more  frequently  she,  loads  it  upon  a  donkey  and 
walks  behind  the  donkey  to  town.  These  women 
and  donkeys  throng  all  day  the  region  of  the 
market.  Both  have  voices  'of  an  unpleasant 
quality.  In  truth,  the  sum  of  what  one  hears 
and  what  one  smells  in  that  hot,  crowded  mar- 
ket place  is  balanced  only  by  the  quaintness  of 
what  one  sees. 

The  quaintness  of  the  peasant  woman  begins 
with  the  stone  jug  which  she  carries  on  her  head, 
and  extends  to  her  feet,  which  are  pigeontoed. 
This  trace  of  Indian  ancestry  is  confirmed  in  her 

[64] 


Life  in  Asuncion 


face,  which  has  that  half- African,  half- Indian  cast 
distinctive  of  the  tribe  of  the  Guaranys. 

As  she  marches  through  the  streets  with  the 
long,  swinging  stride  that  has  carried  her  ten 
miles  this  morning  to  the  city,  she  wears,  wrapped 
in  loose  folds  about  her  head  and  the  upper  part 
of  her  body,  something  which  much  resembles  a 
cotton  sheet.  This  garment  is  a  model  of  sim- 
plicity, and  I  recommend  it  to  dress  reformers. 
There  is  never  any  danger  of  getting  it  on  wrong, 
for  it  has  no  sleeves  nor  openings  of  any  kind,  and 
one  way  is  as  good  as  another. 

Beside  this,  a  cotton  skirt  is  all  that  is  required 
to  complete  the  costume.  The  wearer  does  not 
think  so,  however,  for  she  adds  a  cigar.  This  is 
not  only  a  part  of  the  costume,  but  a  most  indis- 
pensable part  of  it.  As  the  woman  sits  in  the 
market  of  a  hot  afternoon  the  white  drapery  may 
fall  back  from  the  head  and  shoulders,  and  the 
stone  jug  may  have  been  removed  to  fill  with 
water;  but  I  have  never  yet  been  able  to  find  a 
native  woman  or  girl  who  was  not  smoking  an 
enormous  cigar  of  an  inexpensive  brand. 

It  is  pleasing  to  see  these  pretty  figures  closely 
clad  in  white,  with  just  a  glimpse  of  the  dark  eyes 

[65] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


and  olive  face  enveloped  in  drapery,  and  the  bare 
feet  below.  I  mean  to  say  that  it  might  be  pleas- 
ing if  a  large  and  malodorous  cigar  were  not 
added  to  this  picture.  That 
destroys  all  the  poetry. 

These  are  the  only 
people    in    South 


America  who  do  not  smoke 
cigarettes.  A  citizen  of  Bue- 
nos Ayres,  for  instance,  would  lose  his  standing 
in  society  if  seen  with  a  cigar ;  but  here  tobacco 
is  cheap,  while  rice  paper  is  dear,  and  the  cigarette 

is  rarely  seen. 

[66] 


Life  in  Asuncion 


The  customary  hour  of  rising  in  Paraguay  is 
decidedly  early.  The  city  is  awake  and  astir 
on  the  streets  by  five  o'clock;  at  six  the  pub- 
lic schools  are  in  session.  School  is  closed 
for  the  day  at  eleven.  Then  breakfast  is  taken, 
—  the  only  previous  repast  having  been  an 
early  cup  of  coffee  and  a  roll,  —  and  at  midday, 
just  as  the  sun  is  beginning  to  beat  down 
hotly  on  the  pavements,  the  population  retires 
from  sight. 

You  might  better  endeavor  to  transact  business 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  in  Asuncion  than 
at  that  hour  during  the  day.  This  little  space  of 
burning  sun  is  sacred  to  slumber.  It  is  a  most 
sensible  custom.  One  dodges  the  heat,  and  it 
slips  by  unthought  of.  There  is  not  a  case  of 
sunstroke  on  record. 

And  so,  partly  because  they  run  away  from  the 
heat  instead  of  fighting  it  with  ices  and  cooling 
drinks,  and  also  perhaps  because  they  never  have 
to  battle  with  the  question,  "  Is  this  day  hot  enough 
for  you  ? "  each  Paraguayan  emerges  from  his  siesta 
cool  and  smiling  at  four  or  five  of  the  afternoon, 
and  takes  up  the  burden  of  his  business,  which  is 
not  a  very  heavy  one,  anyway. 

[67]   ' 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


On  the  whole,  they  suffer  a  good  deal  less 
from  tropical  weather  than  do  those  unfortu- 
nates who  pass  a  weary  summer  in  New  York 
or  Philadelphia. 

Dinner  comes  at  seven,  and  then  the  long, 
cool  evening,  the  loveliest  part  of  the  day.  As 
we  stroll  through  the  moonlit  streets  we  encounter 
groups  of  white-robed  figures,  and  catch  snatches 
of  music,  and  the  night  seems  alive  with  the 
murmur  of  voices.  Now  it  is  u  Buenas  noches, 
Senorita?  and  again  it  is  a  gentle  "  Adios,  Senor" 
from  some  burdened  balcony;  and  so  the  day  is 

ended. 

CHARLES  H.  PRATT. 


[68] 


THE  CARNIVAL  IN  LIMA 

THE  merry  season  of  Carnival  is  prepared  for 
by  all  Peruvians  several  weeks  in  advance  of  the 
eventful  period.  Numberless  cascarones,  which 
are  hollow  shells,  generally  made  of  stearin  or 
wax  molded  in  forms  of  tiny  cannon,  bunches  of 
grapes,  fish,  and  other  articles,  are  filled  with 
diluted  Florida  water. 

The  cook  saves  all  eggshells  whole  by  blowing 
their  contents  out  for  culinary  purposes,  and  then 
fills  them  with  scented  water. 

In  many  families  bushels  of  cascarones  are  laid 
away  for  Carnival  warfare,  and  a  thriving  trade  is 
worked  up  each  year  by  manufacturers  of  the 
missiles  thrown  in  the  three  days  given  over  to 
the  sports  and  license  of  the  season.  The  Sunday 
previous  to  Ash  Wednesday  opens  the  Carnival, 
and  the  exercises  begin  on  that  day  soon  after 
morning  mass. 

About  noon  every  house  seems  converted  into  a 
fortress,  the  inmates  constituting  the  belligerents. 

[69] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


Senoras,  sefioritas,  and  children  hiding  on  bal- 
conies, peering  out  from  behind  screens,  darting 
suddenly  from  strange  places  on  the  roofs,  pelt 
cascarones  at  the  passers-by,  and  the  sticky  pieces 
of  shell,  fastening  themselves  upon  the  face,  hair, 

and  clothing  of 
the  victims,  make 
them  look  like 
animated  pieces  of 
papier-mache. 

The  sweetness 
of  the  accompany- 
ing showers  of 
delicate  perfume 
hardly  compen- 
sates  f°r  the  rude- 
ness.  The  cautious 
pedestrian,  during 
Carnival,  takes  the 
middle  of  the  street,  and  with  an  umbrella  off 
the  spring,  ready  to  fly  open  in  any  direction, 
he  thinks  himself  well  protected.  Suddenly 
some  powerful  syringe  throws  out  a  stream 
of  water  from  an  unsuspected  source,  and  the 
sparkling  drops  fall  around  him  in  showers.  His 

[7o] 


The  Carnival  in  Lima 


scowls  and  other  demonstrations  of  displeasure 
avail  nothing,  and  he  has  only  to  pass  on  to  encoun- 
ter, perhaps,  a  still  more  formidable  drenching. 


Carnival  Fun  in  Lima 

This  amusing  sport  forms  itself  into  a  kind  of 
thermometer,  measuring  the  heat  of  temper  in 
different  individuals.  The  natives  enjoy  the  fun 
thoroughly,  running  the  gantlet  with  unequaled 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


skill,  pelting  back  their  tantalizing  tormentors, 
when  they  get  a  chance,  and,  with  their  spirits  on 
the  crescendo,  reach  a  height  of  enjoyment  a  less 
excitable  people  can  hardly  understand. 

One  evening,  when  the  Carnival  had  just  begun, 
we  were  sitting  in  our  hall  by  an  open  door,  as  we 
felt  the  need  of  a  little  fresh  air  after  the  heat  of 
the  day.  Several  friends  had  gathered  round  us, 
and  we  were  trusting  to  luck  for  our  protection, 
when  almost  before  we  were  aware  of  it  we  were 
objectively  engaged  in  the  Carnival.  We  were 
reluctant  to  defend  ourselves,  as  it  was  Sunday,  and 
made  a  retreat  as  quickly  as  possible,  thoroughly 
perfumed  with  Florida  water  administered  by  stran- 
gers passing,  as  well  as  by  friends  standing  near. 

Very  early  next  morning  our  young  people 
awoke  in  a  high  state  of  excitement  over  the 
expected  festivities.  Enough  water  lay  secure  in 
cascarones  in  our  house  to  cause  a  deluge  on  a 
small  scale.  I  soon  saw  that  a  general  demorali- 
zation of  the  family  had  taken  place,  and  that 
our  patience  would  have  to  be  maintained  through 
much  tribulation.  Before  the  hour  for  breakfast  the 
clothing  of  all  the  children  was  thoroughly  soaked, 
and  soon  after  breakfast  they  were  saturated  again. 


The  Carnival  in  Lima 


At  eleven  o'clock  this  wild  sport  was,  by  an 
accident  of  the  play,  shifted  to  a  neighboring 
native  house,  all  the  family  taking  an  active  part. 
The  throwing  of  water  was  not  confined  to  the 
garden;  rooms  handsomely  furnished  and  halls 
richly  carpeted  were  thrown  open  regardless  of 
the  damage  that  would  result  from  the  play. 

The  actors,  dressed  in  bathing  costumes, 
employed  their  skill  and  inventive  faculties  for 
many  an  hour  and  surprised  each  other  with  all 
manner  of  curious  ways  of  applying  the  water. 
The  Carnival  had  resolved  itself  into  a  mimic 
battle. 

According  to  the  custom  of  the  country,  after 
the  conflict  was  over  and  the  participants  had 
changed  their  clothing,  the  lady  of  the  house 
served  luncheon,  over  which  a  truce  was  estab- 
lished for  a  few  hours. 

Tuesday  night  being  the  last  of  the  Carnival 
proper,  the  excitement  reaches  its  greatest  height. 
Foreigners  as  well  as  natives,  completely  drawn 
under  the  influence  of  the  absurd  custom,  enter 
into  the  sport  with  energy.  Collected  on  the  bal- 
conies and  tops  of  the  flat-roofed  houses,  they  not 
only  drench  one  another,  but  throw  bucketfuls  of 

[73] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


water  upon  unfortunate  persons  passing  by  on 
the  pavement.  Those  who  think  themselves  safe 
in  passing  at  a  distance  are  reached  by  the  aid  of 
a  hose.  Bright-colored  paints  are  also  brought 
into  requisition. 

Some  idea  of  the  utter  abandon  of  everybody 
at  this  time  may  be  gained  from  the  following 
incident:  A  day  or  two  before  Carnival  a  young 
lady  anticipated  the  occasion  by  playing  a  little 
trick  upon  her  dentist.  He  was  putting  a  neat 
filling  of  gold  into  a  tooth,  —  one  of  those  delicate 
and  difficult  pieces  of  work  of  which  a  dentist  is 
so  proud,  —  and  was  performing  the  most  delicate 
part  of  his  task,  when  the  young  lady,  suddenly 
bringing  her  hand  up  to  his  ear,  burst  a  cascarone 
into  it !  He  said  it  sounded  like  a  thunderclap. 

The  water  ran  down  his  ear  and  neck;  his 
nerves  received  a  shock  as  from  an  electric 
battery.  The  job  of  dentistry  was  spoiled,  the 
work  had  to  be  done  over  again,  and  the  father 
had  an  increased  bill  to  pay.  As  this  was  Car- 
nival fun  he  was  obliged  to  laugh  and  make  the 
best  of  it. 

MARIA  LOUISE  WETMORE. 

[74] 


AN  ODD  CITY  IN  THE  ANDES 

To  reach  Quito  from  the  sea  one  must  ride 
several  days  on  muleback.  The  highway  to  the 
capital  is  not  yet  completed  and  only  a  bridle 
path  crosses  the  breast  of  Chimborazo  at  a  height 
of  fourteen  thousand  feet,  so  that  the  journey  is 
one  of  great  hardship  and  discomfort.  Freight 
for  the  interior  of  Ecuador  is  carried  upon  the 
backs  of  mules  or  men,  who  travel  twelve  or 
fourteen  hours  a  day  and  take  two  or  three  weeks 
for  the  journey. 

There  are  no  hotels,  but  only  filthy  lodging 
houses,  in  which  a  neat  or  nervous  traveler  would 
be  very  uncomfortable.  There  was  no  telegraph 
line  until  a  few  years  ago,  and  it  was  useless  most 
of  the  time  at  first,  for  the  people  cut  down  the 
poles  for  firewood,  and  stole  the  wire  to  repair 
their  harnesses  and  panniers  with. 

Having  once  reached  the  capital  of  the  Incas, 
one  finds  oneself  rewarded  for  all  hardship  and 
exposure,  for  the  scenery  is  grander  than  can  be 

[75] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


\   found  elsewhere,  and  the  ancient 


^..v  j  c*ty  *s  so  quaint  and  queer  that  it 
^'  seems  like  entering  another 

world. 

Quito  is  at  least  two  hundred 
years  behind  the  times  in  almost 
every  feature  of  civilization. 


There  are  no  newspapers, 
and  there  is  only  one 
printing  office,  which  is 

[76] 


An  Odd  City  in  the  Andes 


conducted  by  the  government  for  the  publication 
of  official  documents.  The  city  is  so  far  removed 
from  the  rest  of  the  world  that  the  inhabitants 
seldom  leave  it,  and  people  from  outside  do  not 
often  go  there. 

Quito  is  without  a  decent  hotel,  although  there 
arc  forty  or  fifty  thousand  inhabitants,  and 
strangers  who  want  to  be  comfortable  are  com- 
pelled to  visit  merchants,  officials,  or  others  to 
\vhom  they  have  letters  of  introduction. 

There  is  not  a  carriage  or  a  wagon  in  the  place, 
and  only  a  few  carts  of  the  most  primitive  pattern, 
which  look  like  the  pictures  one  sees  of  those  used 
in  the  time  of  Moses. 

The  history  of  Quito  has  never  been  written, 
but  the  traditions  make  it  as  old  as  Jerusalem  or 
Damascus.  The  Incas  have  traditions  of  a 
mighty  nation  called  the  Quitos,  who  lived  there 
before  their  fathers  came,  but  of  whom  the  world 
has  no  other  knowledge.  All  we  know  is  that 
Pizarro  found  a  magnificent  capital  of  a  mighty 
empire  extending  three  thousand  miles  and  as 
thickly  settled  as  China  or  the  interior  of  Europe, 
with  beautiful  palaces  of  stone,  full  of  gold  and 
silver  and  gems ;  but  it  was  all  destroyed. 

[77] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


The  walls  of  the  palace  of  Atahualpa,  the  last 
of  the  Incas,  whose  pathetic  story  Prescott  has 
told  in  The  Conquest  of  Peru,  now  inclose  a 
prison,  and  a  gloomy  convent  stands  upon  the 
site  of  the  famous  Temple  of  the  Sun. 

Decay  and  dilapidation,  poverty  and  ignorance, 
filth  and  depravity,  are  the  most  conspicuous 
features  of  life  in  Quito,  but  the  people  are  as 
proud  as  if  they  had  all  the  good  things  of  the 
world,  and  think  they  have  a  grander  city  than 
London  or  New  York.  They  know  no  better, 
and  perhaps  it  is  well  that  they  do  not.  The 
only  portion  of  the  population  that  seems  to 
be  prosperous  consists  of  the  buzzards,  the 
scavengers  of  the  town,  and  as  all  the  filth  and 
refuse  is  thrown  into  the  street,  they  have  plenty 
to  do. 

The  men  stand  idly  around  the  street  corners, 
wrapped  in  their  ponchos,  for  it  is  cool  in  the 
shade,  and  repulsive-looking  beggars  reach  out 
their  hands  for  alms  to  those  who  pass  by.  The 
women  are  seldom  seen  in  the  streets  except  on 
feast  days  or  early  in  the  morning  when  they  go 
to  mass,  and  then  they  keep  their  faces  so  covered 
that  it  is  impossible  to  tell  one  from  another, 

[78] 


An  Odd  City  in  the  Andes 

•        •  i 

Soldiers  are  numerous,  usually  barefooted  and 
wearing  uniforms  of  ordinary  white  cotton  sheet- 
ing. Peons  half  naked,  and  children  entirely  so, 
sleep  or  play  in  the  sun,  and  Indian  women  clad 
in  somber  black  glide  to  and  fro  with  their  mantas 
drawn  over  their  heads,  or  sit  in  the  market 
place  selling  fruits  and  vegetables.  Peddlers  are 
numerous,  and  their  shrill  cries  afford  amusement 
to  strangers. 

Water  carriers  are  always  to  be  seen  going  to 
and  from  the  fountain  in  the  plaza  with  great 
jars  of  clay,  holding  half  a  barrel,  on  their  backs. 
There  are  no  pipes  or  wells  to  supply  the  houses, 
and  all  the  water  used  by  the  families  has  to  be 
brought  by  the  servants  or  purchased  from  the 
public  carriers  at  so  much  a  gallon. 

The  city  is  traversed  by  deep  ravines  that  are 
arched  over  with  heavy  masonry,  on  which  the 
houses  rest.  All  the  streets  are  narrow,  and  car- 
riages, if  there  were  any,  could  scarcely  pass  one 
another.  The  sidewalks  are  in  proportion  to  the 
streets,  and  one  wonders  what  they  were  made 
for,  as  two  people  could  not  possibly  go  abreast 
or  pass  each  other  upon  them.  It  is  even  difficult 
for  one  man  to  keep  both  feet  upon  the  sidewalk 

[79] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


without  rubbing  the  whitewash  off  the  walls  of 
the  houses,  and  the  inhabitants,  who  are  never 
guilty  of  any  unnecessary  exertion,  have  aban- 
doned the  effort  and  walk  in  the  road. 

The  roofs  of  the  houses,  which  are  made  of 
curved  tiles,  like  sewer  pipes  cut  lengthwise,  reach 
over  the  pavements  two  or  three  feet,  and  water 
spouts  project  still  farther.  Few  of  the  houses 
have  windows  looking  upon  the  street  on  the 
ground  floor,  but  are  lighted  from  the  inner 
courts.  The  second-story  windows  open  upon 
balconies,  where  the  ladies  spend  a  good  part  of 
their  time  watching  the  passers-by  and  chatting 
with  their  neighbors. 

Many  of  the  houses,  particularly  those  in  the 
center  of  the  city,  are  large,  and  were  once  fur- 
nished with  luxury  and  elegance,  but  are  no 
longer  so.  The  walls  are  thick,  and  the  rooms 
are  large.  The  lower  floors  are  occupied  by  the 
servants  and  as  stables  for  the  horses  and  cattle, 
while  the  family  live  in  the  rooms  above. 

There  is  only  one  entrance,  through  which 
everybody  and  everything  that  enters  the  house 
must  go,  and  at  night  it  is  closed  with  great  oaken 
doors  securely  barred.  There  is  no  gas,  but  a 

[80] 


An  Odd  City  in  the  Andes 


law  requires  each  householder  to  hang  a  lantern 
over  his  door  with  a  lighted  candle  in  it.  When 
the  candles  burn  out  at  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  the 
streets  are  dark.  The  policemen  carry  lanterns 
and  long  pikes,  and  when  the  clocks  strike  the 
hours  they  call  out  u Sereno  /  serenof"  which 
means  that  all  is  well.  Therefore,  the  police- 
men are  called  Serenos. 

There  are  no  fixed  prices  for  anything  in  the 
stores.  If  you  ask  the  cost  of  an  article,  the 
merchant  will  reply,  "  How  much  will  you  give 
for  it  ?  "  If  you  name  a  sum,  he  will  then  ask 
twice  or  three  times  as  much  as  you  offer,  and 
chaffer  with  you.  The  women  in  the  market  will 
sell  nothing  by  wholesale.  If  potatoes  are  six 
cents  a  pound,  every  pound  will  be  weighed  out 
separately,  no  matter  whether  you  buy  two  pounds 
or  a  bushel. 

There  is  no  money  smaller  than  the  cuartillo 
(two  and  one  half  cents)  so  the  change  is  made  in 
loaves  of  bread.  On  his  way  to  market  the  buyer 
stops  at  the  baker's  and  fills  his  basket  with  bread 
to  make  change  with,  so  many  rolls  to  the  penny. 
Very  few  people  have  money,  and  those  who  have 
lack  confidence  in  their  neighbors,  so  everything 

[Si] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


has  to  be  paid  for  in  advance.  If  you  go  to  a 
market  woman  and  tell  her  you  want  such  and 
such  vegetables,  she  asks  for  your  money.  When 
you  give  it  to  her  she  hands  you  what  you  have 
bought.  If  you  order  a  coat  at  the  tailor's  or 
boots  at  the  shoemaker's,  you  have  to  pay  for 
them  in  advance,  for  they  may  not  have  the 
means  to  get  the  materials  at  the  wholesale  store, 
and  have  no  credit.  The  landlord  at  the  hotel 
or  at  the  boarding  house  where  you  are  staying 
comes  every  morning  before  he  goes  to  market 
and  asks  you  to  pay  your  board  for  the  day. 
Otherwise  he  could  not  buy  food. 

At  the  entrances  of  most  of  the  houses  are 
effigies  of  saints  with  candles  burning  before 
them,  and  all  who  enter  must  take  off  their  hats 
and  cross  themselves.  Service  is  going  on  in 
the  churches  almost  continuously,  and  the  air  is 
filled  with  the  clangor  of  bells  from  morning  till 
night.  No  lady  of  quality  goes  to  church  without 
a  servant,  who  carries  her  prayer  rug.  There 
are  no  pews  or  seats  in  the  churches,  but  the 
floors  are  marked  off  in  squares,  which  are  rented 
like  sittings.  The  servant  lays  the  prayer  rug 
down,  the  lady  kneels  upon  it  during  her 

[82] 


An  Odd  City  in  the  Andes 


devotions,  and  at  the  close  of  the  service  the 
servant  comes  again  to  take  it  away. 

Servants  always  go  in  droves.  When  you  hire 
a  cook  you  take  her  husband  and  the  rest  of 
her  family  to  board,  and  they  bring  their  dogs 
and  rabbits,  their  pigs,  their"  chickens,  and  all 
their  other  property  with  them.  The  husband 
may  be  a  peddler  or  a  blacksmith,  or  he  may  be 
a  soldier,  but  he  continues  to  live  with  his  wife 
when  she  goes  out  to  service.  The  children  of 
the  family  may  be  used  for  light  duties,  such  as 
going  on  errands  or  watching  the  baby,  and  no 
extra  pay  is  expected ;  but  for  every  servant  you 
hire  you  may  depend  upon  having  a  dozen  or 
more  extra  mouths  to  feed. 

Sometimes  the  cook's  relatives  come  to  visit 
her,  and  half  a  dozen  men,  women,  and  children 
may  stay  a  week  or  two.  They  also  must  be  fed 
and  taken  care  of;  but  this  is  not  so  much  trouble 
and  expense  as  it  might  seem,  for  they  are  satis- 
fied with  beans,  corn  bread,  and  a  little  potato 
soup  to  eat,  and  sleep  on  the  floor  of  the  kitchen 
or  on  the  straw  in  the  stable. 

There  is  not  a  stove  or  a  chimney  in  all  Quito. 
The  weather  is  seldom  cold  enough  to  require  a 

[83] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


fire  for  heating  purposes,  and  all  the  cooking  is 
done  with  charcoal  on  a  sort  of  shelf  like  a  black- 
smith's forge.  There  must  be  a  different  fire  for 
every  pot  or  kettle,  and  generally  two  persons  to 
attend  them,  one  with  a  pair  of  bellows  and  the 
other  to  keep  the  pots  from  tipping  over,  for  they 
are  made  with  rounded  bottoms  like  a  ginger-beer 
bottle.  No  laundry  work  is  ever  done  in  the  house, 
but  all  the  soiled  clothes  are  taken  to  the  nearest 
brook,  washed  in  the  cold  running  water,  and  spread 
upon  the  stones  to  dry  in  the  sun. 

Very  little  water  is  used  for  drinking,  for  bath- 
ing, or  for  laundry  purposes.  There  is  a  national 
prejudice  against  it.  The  people  have  a  notion  that 
water  is  unwholesome ;  that  it  causes  dyspepsia  if 
too  much  is  taken  into  the  stomach,  and  that  a  fever 
will  result  from  too  free  use  of  it  upon  the  skin. 

Women  seldom  wash  their  faces,  but  wipe 
them  with  cloths,  and  then  spread  on  a  sort  of 
plaster  made  of  .magnesia  and  the  whites  of  eggs. 
When  a  person  arrives  from  a  journey,  particularly 
if  he  has  come  from  a  lower  to  a  higher  altitude, 
he  will  not  wash  his  face  for  several  days  for  fear 
that  the  opening  of  the  pores  of  his  skin  will 
result  in  cold  and  fever. 

[84] 


An  Odd  City  in  the  Andes 


There  are  many  doctors  in  Quito,  and  some  of 
them  are  men  of  skill.  There  are  drug  stores, 
also,  but  when  you  go  to  one  of  them  for  medi- 
cine you  are  expected  to  take  with  you  a  bottle 
or  a  cup  to  bring  it  home  in.  The  druggist  has  no 
stock  of  bottles,  and  never  furnishes  them  to  his 
customers.  The  reason  for  this  is  that  all  bottles 
have  to  be  brought  up  the  mountains  on  the  backs 
of  men,  and  are  therefore  very  expensive. 

The  Indians  constitute  the  laboring  population, 
and  they  carry  all  their  burdens  on  their  backs. 
They  do  not  seem  to  have  any  strength  in  their  arms. 
A  broad  strap  is  passed  around  the  forehead  to  sus- 
tain the  load,  and  another  around  the  shoulders. 
When  on  a  journey  they  generally  take  a  slow  trot, 
which  they  can  keep  up  for  hours  without  tiring, 
even  under  the  weight  of  a  hundred  pounds. 

They  never  laugh  or  sing,  have  no  sports,  no 
games,  no  tales,  but  are  sullen,  morose,  stupid,  and 
submissive  to  all  sorts  of  cruelty  and  oppression. 
The  Spaniards  have  been  hard  masters,  and  three 
hundred  and  fifty  years  of  cruel  persecution  and 
oppression  have  crushed  out  the  spirit  of  the  poor 
son  of  the  Inca  so  that  he  no  longer  smiles. 

W.  E.  CURTIS. 
[85] 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LLAMA 

To  a  traveler  in  search  of  experience  I  should 
recommend  a  visit  to  Bolivia.  Although  the  set- 
tled portion  of  that  republic  is  almost  as  inacces- 
sible as  the  interior  of  Africa,  the  journey  thither 
is  full  of  interesting  experiences.  First,  there  is 
the  voyage  from  New  York  to  Aspinwall,  which 
in  the  summer  season  is  comfortable  and  pleasant; 
next  the  trip  by  rail  over  the  famous  Panama  road 
across  the  Isthmus,  when  one  of  the  commodious 
vessels  of  the  Pacific  Steam  Navigation  Company 
is  taken,  and  the  traveler  lives  a  sort  of  picnic  life 
for  the  next  three  weeks,  until  the  port  of  Mollendo 
is  reached. 

The  waters  of  the  South  Pacific  are  always 
smooth,  the  weather  is  always  fair  during  the 
dry  season,  the  scenery  is  sublime,  the  tempera- 
ture is  never  too  hot  nor  too  cool,  for  so  long 
as  you  remain  under  the  awnings  the  breezes 
from  the  ocean  or  the  Andes  temper  the  tropic 
heat. 

[86] 


The  Land  of  the  Llama 


The  ship  stops  at  all  the  ports  along  the  coast, 
often  dropping  anchor  two  or  three  times  a  day, 
and  giving  the  passenger  an  opportunity  to  go 
ashore  and  inspect  all  the  quaint  towns  and  vil- 
lages, each  one  of  which  ordinarily  offers  some 
new  and  novel  adventure.  I  can  suggest  no  more 
agreeable  or  interesting  voyage  than  that  between 
Panama  and  Valparaiso. 

Mollendo  is  about  two  thirds  of  the  way.  There 
passengers  for  Bolivia  leave  the  ship  and  take  a 
railway,  which  was  built  and  is  still  managed  by 
an  enterprising  Boston  Yankee. 

The  conveniences  of  travel  by  this  line  have 
not  reached  so  high  a  state  of  perfection  as  are 
found  on  lines  which  run  between  New  York, 
Philadelphia,  and  Boston,  but  it  is  a  great  improve- 
ment upon  muleback  riding  over  a  thirsty  desert 
and  through  the  dizzy  passes  of  the  Andes. 

This  railroad  is  remarkable  for  running  nearer 
the  stars  than  almost  any  other  railway,  for  where 
it  passes  over  the  western  range  of  the  Andes,  into 
the  great  basin  of  the  southern  continent,  the  track 
is  fourteen  thousand  seven  hundred  and  sixty-five 
feet  above  the  sea,  and  the  only  higher  point  at 
which  a  wheel  was  ever  turned  by  steam  is  where 

[87] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


another  Peruvian  railway  tunnels  the  Andes.  No 
other  long  road  can  show  an  equal  amount  of 
excavation  or  such  massive  embankments,  and 
the  engineering  difficulties  overcome  in  its  con- 
struction were  enormous. 

Along  the  side  of  the  track,  for  a  distance  of 
eighty-five  miles,  is  an  iron  pipe,  eight  inches  in 
diameter,  which  conducts  water  from  the  springs 
in  the  mountains  for  the  engines,  and  for  the  use 
of  the  people  who  dwell  in  the  desert.  On  the 
other  side  of  this  desert  is  the  city  of  Arequipa, 
whose  name  signifies  the  place  of  rest,  although 
it  is  more  subject  to  earthquakes  and  political 
revolutions  than  is  any  other  place  in  Peru. 

To  reach  La  Paz,  the  former  seat  of  govern- 
ment and  capital  of  Bolivia,  one  must  cross 
Lake  Titicaca,  a  strange  and  bottomless  sheet 
of  water.  One  of  its  islands  was  the  legendary 
Eden  of  the  Incas,  and  around  its  shores  cluster 
the  prehistoric  cities  which  the  brutal  Spaniards 
destroyed.  On  this  lake  there  is  a  steamer, — 
at  least,  that  is  what  the  people  call  it,  although 
it  would  amuse  a  North  American  shipwright 
and  usually  excites  a  nervous  apprehension  in 
the  minds  of  timid  travelers. 

[88] 


The  Land  of  the  Llama 


If  one  does  not  care  to  board  this  unique  craft, 
or  if  one  wishes  to  depart  from  the  regular  route 
of  travel  and  make  a  cruise  among  the  ruined 
cities  of  the  Incas,  one  can  hire  what  is  called  a 
"balsa,"  a  curious  combination  of  raft,  flatboat, 
and  catamaran,  which  is  propelled  by  a  large  sail 
made  of  skins  and  by  long  poles. 

Reaching  the  southern  point  of  the  lake  one 
must  make  the  rest  of  the  journey,  wherever  one 
may  be  going,  on  muleback  along  the  ancient 
highway  of  the  Incas,  which  was  constructed  cen- 
turies before  the  conquest  and  is  perhaps  the  most 
remarkable  of  the  many  remains  of  that  remark- 
able race.  The  Spaniards  have  not  repaired  it 
since  they  have  had  control  of  the  country,  more 
than  three  hundred  and  fifty  years,  but  it  is  still 
in  a  good  state  of  preservation,  and  is  continually 
trodden  by  parties  of  travelers,  battalions  of  troops, 
and  droves  of  llamas,  often  thousands  in  number, 
laden  with  the  products  of  the  forests  and  mines 
of  Bolivia. 

As  the  camel  is  to  the  people  of  the  deserts  of 
Asia  and  Africa,  so  is  the  llama  to  those  who 
dwell  in  the  Andes,  a  faithful,  patient,  and  endur- 
ing beast,  without  which  the  inhabitants  would  be 

[89] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


utterly  helpless,  for  mules  and  horses  can  neither 
survive  the  climate  nor  climb  the  mountain  trails. 

The  llamas  one  sees  in  Bolivia  are  as  much 
unlike  the  animals  shown  in  the  zoological  gardens 
as  the  tiger  in  the  jungles  of  India  is  unlike  his 
namesake  that  growls  and  yawns  in  a  circus  cage. 
Their  bodies  are  covered  with  a  soft,  thick,  gray 
wool  like  that  of  the  merino  sheep ;  their  giraffe- 
like  necks  are  proudly  and  gracefully  curved ; 
their  eyes  are  large,  lustrous,  and  intelligent,  with 
an  expression  of  constant  inquiry;  their  ears  are 
shapely,  and  quiver  continually  as  if  to  catch  the 
first  sound  of  approaching  danger. 

The  llama  is  to  me  a  fascinating  study.  While 
he  is  docile,  obedient,  and  enduring,  there  is  always 
an  air  of  suspicion  or  distrust  about  him, and  a  silent 
dignity  that  forbids  an  intimate  acquaintance. 

He  carries  his  load  of  one  hundred  pounds  of 
ore,  or  coca,  or  cinchona,  or  other  merchandise  up 
and  down  the  precipitous  pathways  where  no  other 
beast  of  burden  can  go,  and  where  it  is  difficult 
for  man  to  follow.  But  when  he  is  overloaded  he 
resents  it  and  lies  down.  No  amount  of  coaxing, 
or  bullying,  or  beating  can  get  him  to  his  feet 
until  the  surplus  is  removed  from  his  back,  when 

[90] 


The  Land  of  the  Llama 


he  rises  solemnly  and  marches  off  with  his  load. 
He  will  carry  a  hundred  pounds  but  no  more,  and 
his  cargo  is  packed  in  sacks  or  panniers,  one  half 
on  each  side.  Therefore,  all  freight  subject  to  this 
mode  of  transportation  must  be  packed  accordingly, 
and  limited  to  packages  of  fifty  pounds. 

When  frightened,  llamas  always  cluster  in 
groups,  with  their  tails  together  and  their  heads 
out  to  meet  the  enemy ;  and  their  only  weapon  of 
defense  is  their  saliva,  which,  when  angry,  they 
squirt  through  their  teeth  in  showers.  A  drop  of 
this  saliva,  falling  in  the  ear,  or  eye,  or  mouth,  or 
on  any  part  of  the  body  where  the  skin  is  broken, 
will  instantly  produce  a  most  painful  irritation 
and  often  dangerous  sores.  The  llama  drivers 
keep  away  from  the  heads  of  their  animals  as 
carefully  as  a  man  does  from  the  heels  of  a  mule. 

When  the  llama  lies  down  he  folds  his  long 
slender  legs  under  him  in  some  mysterious 
manner,  and  chews  his  cud  with  an  air  of  abstract 
contemplation  and  absolute  content. 

The  kids  afford  excellent  food,  but  the  bodies 
of  the  old  llamas  are  masses  of  muscle,  tendon, 
and  gristle  that  are  tough  and  rank.  They  live 
to  a  great  age,  subsist  upon  almost  anything  in 

[90 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


the  shape  of  food,  and  have  as  powerful  a  diges- 
tive apparatus  as  a  goat  or  an  ostrich  has. 

The  droves  of  llamas  are  followed  by  queerly 
clad  natives,  who  utter  a  singular  sort  of  whistle 
which  the  animals  seem  to  understand  and  obey. 
One  driver  is  usually  sufficient  for  a  hundred  or 
more,  for  they  need  no  more  attention  than  sheep, 
and  travel  night  and  day  till  they  reach  their 
destination,  when  they  are  released  from  their 
burdens  and  turned  into  corrals. 

In  these  elevated  regions,  as  I  have  said,  it  is 
difficult  for  either  horses  or  mules  to  exist,  the 
air  being  too  thin  for  them.  Horses  are  seldom 
seen,  and  mules  are  kept  only  for  the  accommo- 
dation of  the  traveler;  their  nostrils  are  split  so 
as  to  make  it  easier  for  them  to  breathe.  When 
a  horse  is  brought  into  the  high  altitudes  of  the 
Andes  the  blood  starts  from  his  mouth,  ears,  and 
nose,  and  men  are  often  affected  in  the  same  way. 
The  disease  is  known  as  sirroche,  and  some- 
times is  fatal.  The  natives,  having  been  born 
and  bred  at  this  great  elevation,  are  no  more 
affected  by  the  rarity  of  the  atmosphere  than 
the  negroes  of  the  Brazilian  swamps  are  by 
ihe  heat. 


The  Land  of  the  Llama 


The  population  of  Bolivia  is  somewhat  more  than 
two  millions,  of  whom  three  fourths  are  descendants 
of  the  race  over  which  the  Incas  ruled,  for  the  pol- 
icy of  extermination  was  not  enforced  in  the  Boliv- 
ian provinces  as  it  was  farther  northward  in  Peru 
and  Ecuador.  Of  the  remaining  one  fourth,  or  five 
hundred  thousand  people,  the  greater  part  are  of 
Spanish  descent.  The  mixed  bloods  of  white  and 
Indian  are  called  Cholos,  but  this  term  has  come 
to  have  a  more  comprehensive  meaning,  and  is 
used  to  designate  the  entire  laboring  class,  like 
the  word  "  peon "  in  Mexico. 

The  Cholos  are  small  of  stature,  but  muscular 
of  frame,  quiet,  stoical,  and  secretive  of  disposi- 
tion, industrious,  obedient,  intelligent,  and  ingen- 
ious, but  degraded  in  their  habits  and  entirely 
ignorant  of  the  outside  world.  They  are  capable 
of  enduring  great  fatigue,  and  are  especially  remark- 
able for  making  long  journeys  with  a  peculiar 
swinging  trot  which  carries  them  six  or  eight  miles 
an  hour.  They  can  travel  for  several  days  in  suc- 
cession through  the  mountain  forests  and  over  the 
desert  sands,  without  rest  or  food  except  the  dried 
coca  leaf,  which  they  chew  constantly,  mixed  with 
a  little  potash  made  of  the  skins  of  potatoes. 

[93] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


These  runners  are  called  chasquis,  and  before 
the  conquest  used  to  carry  the  edicts  of  the  Incas 
to  the  people.  Their  speed  and  endurance  amazed 
the  Spaniards,  who  could  not  conceive  how  infor- 
mation from  the  Inca  could  be  spread  over  a 
territory  four  thousand  miles  long  in  a  few  weeks. 

A  curious  phenomenon  which  always  attracts 
the  attention  of  strangers  who  visit  the  villages 
of  the  Chiquitos,  a  tribe  of  this  race,  is  that  their 
hair  does  not  whiten  or  grow  gray  with  age,  but 
turns  from  black  to  a  copper-red  color. 

The  settled  portion  of  Bolivia,  which  lies  in 
the  great  basin  between  the  two  ranges  of  the 
Andes,  is  called  the  Valley  of  the  Desaguadero, 
and  within  its  limits  are  the  populous  cities 
and  nine  tenths  of  the  inhabitants.  Except  in 
La  Paz,  and  one  or  two  other  of  the  larger  cities, 
none  of  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  modern 
civilization  can  be  found.  The  people  are  in 
almost  every  respect  one  or  two  hundred  years 
behind  the  age. 

There  is  a  compulsory  education  law,  but  the 
Congress  that  passed  it,  and  every  succeeding 
Congress  as  well,  has  forgotten  to  provide  schools, 
so  that  it  cannot  be  enforced. 

[94] 


The  Land  of  the  Llama 


There  are  no  manufactories.  Every  Cholo  is 
his  own  weaver,  tailor,  and  shoemaker,  and  the 
aristocrats  wear  clothing  imported  from  France. 
The  ladies  wear  the  latest  Paris  fashions,  and  the 
men  the  finest  imported  fabrics,  silk  hats,  and 
patent-leather  shoes. 

All  the  wealth  of  the  nation  is  confined  to  a  few 
families  who  are  immensely  rich.  The  aristocracy 
furnish  the  politicians,  the  professional  men,  and 
the  civil  and  military  officers  of  the  government. 
The  merchants  are  mostly  Germans,  with  a  good 
many  Jews;  the  hotel  keepers,  bakers,  etc.,  are 
Frenchmen  and  Swiss ;  and  the  dentists  and  pho- 
tographers are  invariably  from  the  United  States. 

The  city  of  La  Paz  itself  is  far  from  being  an 
attractive  place.  The  only  evidence  of  enterprise 
it  possesses  is  the  Alameda,  a  broad  promenade, 
with  stone  benches,  from  which  one  can  get  a 
glorious  view  of  some  of  the  grandest  mountains 
in  the  world.  The  complete  name  of  the  place  is 
La  Paz  de  Ayacucho,  and  it  means  "  the  peace  of 
Ayacucho,"  being  so  christened  in  1825  in  honor 
of  the  victory  of  the  Bolivians  under  Bolivar,  which 
established  their  independence  of  the  crown  of 
Spain. 

[95] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


The  town  resembles  all  others  of  Spanish  con- 
struction, and  has  a  noble  mountain  stream  run- 
ning through  the  center,  which  is  crossed  by 
several  massive  bridges.  The  cathedral  is  large 
and  imposing,  being  built  of  solid  blocks  of  stone. 
More  than  forty  years  were  spent  in  its  erection. 
No  derricks  or  other  machines  were  used,  but  as 
fast  as  a  course  of  stone  was  laid,  earth  was  banked 
up  against  the  walls  inside  and  out.  Upon  this 
incline  the  next  course  of  stone  was  rolled  into 
place,  and  so  on,  till  the  church  was  completed 
and  the  roof  was  laid  upon  the  earth  that  had 
been  carried  within  the  walls. 

Then  it  became  necessary  to  dig  it  out,  and  it 
took  thirteen  years  to  do  so,  although  hundreds 
of  men  and  llamas  were  employed  in  the  task. 
Every  ounce  of  the  dirt  had  to  come  out  of  the 
windows  or  doors. 

The  public  buildings  are  not  impressive,  and 
were  formerly  monasteries.  There  is  a  university 
of  some  pretensions,  and  there  are  one  or  two 
good  schools,  but  most  of  the  young  men  are  sent 
to  Chile  or  to  Europe  to  be  educated. 

W.  E.  CURTIS. 

[96] 


THE  ARGENTINE  CAPITAL 

PEOPLE  who  have  never  traveled  often  think  of 
each  separate  portion  of  the  earth  as  quite  unlike 
all  other  parts.  Spain  is  to  them  a  land  of  jin- 
gling castanets  and  dark-eyed  sefioritas,  and  South 
America  is  rilled  with  forests  of  palm  trees,  droves 
of  wild  cattle,  and  horsemen  forever  scouring  the 
plains. 

When  one  goes  abroad,  however,  one  finds  that 
even  in  Spain  there  are  many  things  which  are 
not  so  very  Spanish,  just  as  some  parts  of  South 
America  are  not  strikingly  South  American.  It 
is  a  certain  shock  at  first  to  find  that  we  must 
search  a  little  there  for  the  old  winding  streets, 
and  the  arched  stone  entrances  under  which,  in 
every  sketch  and  description,  picturesque  men 
and  women  have  grouped  themselves  in  bold 
and  striking  poses. 

Buenos  Ayres  is,  in  fact,  so  cosmopolitan  that  its 
own  scenes  are  a  mixture  of  those  of  every  other 
country.  Although  its  language  is  Spanish,  there 

[97] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


are  more  Italians  than  Spaniards  in  the  city. 
There  are  also  thousands  of  English  and  Ger- 
mans, and  life  is  no  longer  the  old  dreamy  life  of 
the  South. 

Thus  one  of  the  things  most  peculiar  to  the 
American  visiting  Buenos  Ayres  is  its  lack  of 
peculiarity.  Through  its  narrow  streets  run  the 
same  street  cars  which  he  sees  at  home.  Ameri- 
can telegraph  and  telephone  wires  form  networks 
overhead,  and  there  is  nothing  very  novel  about 
the  dry  goods  and  the  furnishing  stores. 

The  Rio  de  la  Plata,  on  the  southern  bank  of 
which  the  city  stands,  is  now  the  center  of  a 
great  European  trade.  It  is  one  hundred  miles 
wide  at  its  mouth,  and,  like  most  rivers  of  such 
large  dimensions,  it  is  extremely  shallow. 

Standing  at  any  hour  of  the  day  on  the  busy 
water  front  of  Buenos  Ayres  in  the  midst  of  hurry- 
ing cartmen  and  noisy  muleteers,  one  looks  out 
across  an  apparently  endless  expanse  of  dull  brown 
\\akT.  Far  away  in  the  distance  are  myriads  of 
masts,  just  showing  above  the  water  line.  Com- 
ing from  them  toward  the  shore  are  flat-bottomed 
lighters,  propelled  sometimes  by  clumsy  square 
sails,  sometimes  by  little  steam  tugboats,  to  within 

[98] 


The  Argentine  Capital 


perhaps  half  a  mile  of  the  land;  and  from  these 
the  goods  are  carried  to  the  shore  in  immense 
carts,  drawn  by  shivering  horses  which  pull  and 
plunge  through  the  shallow  water. 

Every  few  weeks  comes  a  howling  pampero 
from  the  plains,  —  a  huge  storm  of  wind,  which 
often  has  sufficient  force  to  drive  the  shallow 
water  out  two  miles  into  the  river,  leaving  vessels 
which  an  hour  before  had  been  calmly  riding  at 
anchor  now  standing  high  and  dry  upon  the  sand. 
There  they  must  wait  until  the  following  day, 
when  the  wind  goes  down,  the  water  comes  back, 
and  they  are  afloat  again. 

For  miles  along  this  river  front  there  extends  a 
quaint  old  street,  Paseo  de  Julio  by  name,  meaning 
the  "  Walk  of  July."  It  presents  a  curious  picture. 
Here  are  sailors  of  all  nationalities,  strolling  up 
and  down  in  noisy  groups,  and  peddlers  crying  all 
manner  of  wares,  always  in  a  most  dismal  voice. 
Along  this  street  wander  immigrants,  just  landed 
from  their  ships,  peering  into  some  of  the  many 
cheap  restaurants,  the  interiors  of  which  are  hid- 
den by  curtains  of  cigarette  smoke.  There  is 
much  tinsel  display.  Bands  in  gaudy  uniforms 
march  back  and  forth.  One  hears  occasionally 

[99] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


faint  sounds  of  laughter  and  song.  Groups  jostle 
one  another  as  they  pass.  Not  until  late  at  night 
do  these  scenes  and  sounds  cease. 

Rembved  only  four  blocks  from  the  Paseo  de 
Julio  is  the  street  most  distant  from  it  in  character, 
—  Calle  Florida,  the  avenue  of  fashion.  Overhead 
are  arches  of  lights  stretched  across  at  frequent 
intervals,  and  through  it,  crowds  of  quite  an  oppo- 
site sort  from  those  met  on  the  Paseo  drive  in 
carriages  or  lazily  saunter  on  foot. 

The  typical  Argentine  judges  his  fellows  first 
of  all  by  their  dress,  second,  by  their  personal 
beauty,  and  last,  according  to  their  intelligence. 
These  distinctions  are  closely  observed. 

Years  ago  it  was  customary  for  a  peon,  or  labor- 
ing man,  to  give  to  the  caballero,  or  gentleman,  the 
inside  of  the  walk  in  passing.  Many  foreigners 
have  come  to  the  city,  and  although  the  line 
between  the  two  classes  is  as  distinct  as  of  old, 
this  law  is  no  longer  observed.  As  there  is  no 
other  law  to  take  its  place  people  turn  to  the 
side  which  suits  their  fancy,  and  one  is  kept 
constantly  dodging  to  avoid  collisions. 

The  business  man  of  Buenos  Ayres  is  at  all 
times  well  dressed;  but  in  the  evening  it  is  his 

[100] 


The  Argentine  Capital 


delight  to  array  himself  in  added  finery,  exchange 
his  pointed  shoes  for  those  of  patent  leather,  and 
with  kid  gloves  and  cane  wander  forth  to  gaze 
and  be  gazed  upon. 

A  white  flower  is  always  worn  in  the  coat  lapel. 
Hence,  throughout  the  streets  during  the  evening 
hours,  one  finds  pretty  Italian  girls  selling  these 
flowers.  In  their  presence  haughty  Spanish  dons 
lose  all  their  haughtiness,  and  willingly  pay  fifty 
cents  for  a  single  flower  when  with  it  comes  a 
smile.  After  a  few  years  of  flower  selling  at  such 
prices,  the  flower  girl  may  journey  back  to  her 
Italian  home,  bearing  with  her  enough  money  to 
support  her,  in  her  unambitious  way,  for  the  rest 
of  her  life. 

In  other  departments  of  trade  the  relation  of 
these  two  peoples  is  the  same.  The  Spaniard 
carelessly  pays  the  money,  the  Italian  gladly 
receives  it;  the  one  is  by  nature  the  grasshopper, 
the  other  the  ant  to  earn  and  save. 

Away  back  in  the  good  old  unprogressive  days, 
when  trade  and  prosperity  had  not  yet  broken  in 
upon  the  lethargy  of  the  Argentine  Republic, 
houses  throughout  the  city  were  built  far  apart, 
with  long  stretches  of  idle  ground  between;  but 

[101] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


within  the  last  ten  years  times  have  changed,  and 
these  pieces  of  land  have  many  times  doubled  in 
value. 

Thus  it  happens  that  between  the  old  buildings 
new  ones  have  been  built,  smaller  than  the  old 
sometimes,  often  much  larger;  in  every  case  of 
entirely  different  appearance  and  style.  As  one 
passes  through  the  streets  one  may  see  a  quaint 
old  moss-covered  one-story  house  nestling  close 
under  the  side  of  a  large  new  one,  through  the 
ever-open  door  of  which  one  catches  glimpses  of 
richly  decorated  walls  and  costly  furnishings 
within. 

Only  next  beyond  may  be  a  bustling  little 
grocery,  piled  high  with  cans  and  bales  and 
bundles,  while  but  one  door  farther  removed  is 
another  house  of  the  ancient  sort,  where  the 
senora  dozes  all  day  in  her  rocking-chair  in  the 
sun,  and  the  chickens  and  children  play  together 
in  the  cool  and  vine-decked  patio.  Thus  neigh- 
borhoods are  destroyed;  the  richest  and  the  most 
lowly  often  dwell  side  by  side,  thrown  together  by 
the  chance  and  change  of  upstart  prosperity. 

These  South  American  houses  are  only  one  or 
two  stories  high,  square  and  flat  roofed,  with  their 

[102] 


The  Argentine  Capital 


brick  surfaces 
plastered  over 
with  cement 
and  afterward 
painted  a  uni- 
form dull  brown 
or  a  faint  blue. 
As  they  stretch 
away  in  this 
fashion  in  end- 
less repetition, 
it  is  impossible 
for  one  of  them 


to  give  any 
idea  of  its 
owner's  taste 
or  situation. 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


The  patio,  or  inner  court,  is  the  place  about  which 
all  the  rooms  are  arranged,  and  in  which  center  all 
the  occupations  of  the  day.  Practically,  it  is  the 
dooryard,  around  which  is  the  house  itself,  and  the 
patio  thus  becomes  the  family  work  and  pleasure 
ground.  One  seldom  finds  pale  or  puny  children 
here.  Shut  in  from  all  the  world  without,  the  patio 
is  nevertheless  open  to  the  full  beauty  and  health- 
giving  power  of  sunshine  and  sky  and  breeze. 

Instead  of  a  cooking  stove,  one  finds  in  every 
Argentine  kitchen  a  rectangular  brick  structure 
about  three  feet  in  height,  with  a  flat  top,  reach- 
ing frequently  quite  across  one  end  of  the  room. 
On  the  side  are  openings  a  foot  square  and  per- 
haps eighteen  inches  deep.  Along  the  top  is  a 
row  of  round  holes  the  size  of  a  saucepan.  Thus 
constructed,  the  stove  is  ready  to  receive  in  its 
side  openings  some  charcoal,  which  is  soon  blown 
into  a  white  heat  by  a  tiny  bellows  or  a  fan  of 
plaited  straw;  then  over  the  circular  apertures  are 
placed  various  covered  pots  and  dishes,  and  the 
pit c hero  begins  to  simmer,  or  the  stew  of  rice  and 
garlic  sends  up  little  puffs  of  steam,  a  pot  of  coffee 
is  set  steeping,  and  soon  the  air  is  filled  with  a 
wonderful  combination  of  savory  odors. 

[104] 


The  Argentine  Capital 


The  national  dish,  which  comes  into  play  during 
native  feasts  and  holidays,  is  a  large  shoulder  of 
beef,  fastened  upon  a  spit  and  slowly  turned 

until  done 

Ja^^g^^f^ before  an 
^"5*  open  fire. 
Vr"^  No  indul- 
:-  ^  gence  can 
5j--_  carry  such 
^-  unchecked 

^  happiness 

to  the  Argen- 
tine's heart 
as  when,  hav- 
ing driven 
with  his  fam- 
ily out  into 
the  park  or 
country,  and 
having  kin- 
dled a  fire,  he 
superintends 
the  preparation  of  such  a  primitive  meal. 

Eaten  with  tortilla,  a  fried  mixture  of  flour, 
pepper,  eggs,  and  every  variety  of  edible  vegetable, 

[105] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


and  combined  with  the  pure  air  of  the  pampas 
and  well-whetted  appetites,  the  simple  meal  takes 
on  wonderful  attractions. 

The  holiday  ended,  the  family  returns  to  the 
city.  The  citizen  of  Buenos  Ayres  has  not  time 
for  many  such  holidays  now;  but  he  likes  to 
indulge  in  them  sometimes  as  a  reminiscence  of 
the  happy,  idle,  dreamy  days  that  were. 

CHARLES  H.  PRATT. 


[106] 


LOST  AMONG  BUBBLES 

WHILE  spending  a  few  weeks  shooting  in 
Labrador  early  in  a  recent  autumn,  I  had  an 
adventure  which  was  so  singular  that  I  am  sure 
the  like  of  it  has  never  come  within  the  experi- 
ence of  any  one  else. 

I  was  living  at  the  house  of  a  fisherman  who 
had  a  little  hut  among  the  rocks  at  the  foot  of  a 
great  cliff.  From  this  place  I  could  pass,  at  low 
tide,  to  the  east  or  west  of  the  cottage  for  a  con- 
siderable distance  along  the  coast. 

The  coast  was  a  series  of  bights  or  coves,  all 
open  to  the  ocean,  but  nearly  every  one  sheltered 
at  the  side  by  a  long  reef  of  rocks  which  ran  far 
out  into  the  sea.  The  point  always  protected  the 
cove,  and  made  it  smooth  when  the  wind  blew  up 
or  down  the  coast. 

During  such  a  gale  myriads  of  sea  birds  seek 
the  sheltered  side  of  the  reef  and  dive  for  small 
univalves  which  cling  to  the  rocks. 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


One  morning  I  took  my  dog  to  a  cove  which  I 
knew  would  contain  many  sea  birds.  It  was  sur- 
rounded, save  for  the  front,  by  high  cliffs,  and 
at  one  side  a  high  ridge  of  rock  ran  out  into  the 
sea.  It  was  blowing  a  gale,  and  throngs  of  ducks 
floated  under  the  lee  side  of  this  point,  as  the 
water  there  was  smooth. 

As  I  lay  on  one  of  the  shelves  of  this  reef,  I 
noticed  that  a  constant  stream  of  foam  passed 
across  from  the  windward  side  of  the  point, 
where  the  sea  was  chafing  and  churning  against 
the  rocks,  to  the  little  cup-shaped  cove  beyond. 
Great  masses  of  this  foam,  lighter  than  thistle 
down,  had  already  gathered  in  the  shelter;  and  as 
a  flaw  from  the  gale  touched  it,  the  mass  quiv- 
ered from  end  to  end. 

What  a  mass  it  was!  I  could  hardly  believe 
my  eyes  as  I  stood  among  the  rocks  and  looked 
across  at  it.  It  was  probably  about  an  acre  and  a 
half  in  area  but  how  deep  I  could  not  tell,  though 
I  was  sure  that  it  must  have  been  forty  feet  deep 
at  the  back  of  the  cove,  and  not  less  than  ten  feet 
anywhere. 

The  mass  was  not  white,  but  yellowish,  though 
whenever  the  sun  burst  through  the  scudding 

[108] 


Lost  among  Bubbles 


clouds  the  bubbles  all  along  the  top  gleamed  in 
rainbow  colors.  Still  more  foam  came  drifting 
across  the  reef,  settling  on  the  top  and  rolling 
along  to  find  a  level.  Great  masses  of  foam  like 
this  are  common  in  the  far  north.  They  disap- 
pear in  a  few  hours  after  the  storm  which  causes 
them,  leaving  nothing  but  a  soft,  greasy  paste  on 
the  rocks. 

This  great,  unstable,  quivering  mass  had  an 
unaccountable  fascination  for  me.  I  was  seized 
with  a  strong  desire  to  go  down  and  into  it ;  and 
that  was  just  what  I  did,  leaving  my  dog  beside 
my  gun  on  a  small  patch  of  sand. 

Now,  as  I  have  said,  the  cove  into  which  this 
froth  was  heaped  was  closed  round  with  straight 
cliffs  except  for  a  little  opening  in  front  through 
which  the  sea  ran  gurgling  in  a  harrow  channel. 
I  had  to  jump  across  this  channel;  and  then  I 
found  eight  or  ten  square  feet  of  bare  beach,  from 
which  the  foam  rose  slantingly  backward.  The 
bubbles  were  of  all  sizes,  some  of  them  being  no 
larger  than  a  grain  of  shot,  some  of  them  more 
than  an  inch  in  diameter. 

The  dog  jumped  across  to  where  I  stood  and 
looked  into  my  face,  wondering  what  I  was  about, 

[109] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


I  ordered  him  back,  and  he  turned  away  very 
unwillingly. 

I  first  thrust  my  hands  and  arms  into  the  heap, 
and  it  became  nothing  in  my  grasp.  Of  course 
all  the  bubbles  had  air  in  them,  and  I  was  sure 
that  I  ran  no  risk  of  suffocation  in  plunging  into 
the  mass. 

Ducking  my  head  I  went  in,  under  a  mass  fully 
forty  feet  high,  advancing  carefully  lest  there 
should  be  holes  or  rocks  in  the  way.  It  seemed 
to  me  as  if  I  were  moving  the  whole  mass  in  the 
cove,  and  very  likely  I  was.  I  put  the  bubbles 
away  from  my  face  and  opened  my  eyes ;  before 
the  foam  closed  down  again  I  noticed  a  faint 
light.  But  my  attempt  at  breathing  was  not 
comfortable.  When  I  inhaled,  a  number  of  bub- 
bles went  into  my  mouth  and  broke  there,  but  the 
air  they  contained  was  pure  and  went  into  my 
lungs.  I  then  found  it  best  to  hold  my  hand 
across  my  mouth,  straining  the  air  between  my 
fingers.  As  I  drew  in  my  breath  many  bubbles 
pressed  against  my  hand,  and  I  could  feel  the 
tiny  soft  explosions. 

I  had  walked  thirty  or  forty  paces  when  I 
shouted  again  and  again.  My  voice  seemed  very 

[no] 


Lost  among  Bubbles 


low,  but  I  could  hear  a  million  bubbles  quivering 
round  me  and  above  me.  Wherever  I  was  sure 
the  ground  was  level  I  walked  on  rapidly,  fling- 
ing my  arms  about  me. 

In  spite  of  the  air  in  the  bubbles,  the  sensa- 
tions I  experienced  were  not  agreeable,  and  a 
dull  pain  came  into  my  head.  The  light  I  had 
noticed  on  opening  my  eyes  was  dimmer,  and  I 
supposed  I  was  near  the  cliff  at  the  back  of 
the  cove.  Having  had  my  novel  experience,  I 
turned  about  to  go  back,  taking,  as  nearly 
as  I  could  judge,  the  way  by  which  I  had 
come.  Walking  as  rapidly  as  possible  for  three 
or  four  minutes,  I  supposed  that  I  must  be 
close  to  the  spot  where  I  had  entered.  But 
evidently  I  was  not,  for  the  hard  face  of  the  cliff 
stopped  me. 

Then  I  turned  and  walked  along  the  edge  of 
the  cliff  toward  the  opening;  but  presently  a 
great  rock  rose  in  my  way.  In  my  confusion 
while  groping  to  feel  for  the  cliff  I  inhaled 
numerous  bubbles,  so  that  a  salt,  slimy  paste 
began  to  form  in  my  mouth.  It  did  not  take  me 
long  to  realize  that  I  had  lost  my  way,  and  that 
my  predicament  was  one  not  to  be  envied, 

[in] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


So,  with  my  left  hand  over  my  mouth  and  my 
right  extended,  I  crossed  and  moved  in  every 
direction  that  I  thought  likely  to  bring  me  out. 
Several  times  I  fell  by  stumbling  against  large 
stones,  and  my  knees  and  arms  were  badly 
bruised.  The  pain  in  my  head,  meantime,  grew 
worse,  and  there  was  a  strange  buzzing  in  my 
ears. 

After  I  had  been  in  the  place  about  fifteen 
minutes,  the  weariness  grew  so  great  that  I  was 
obliged  to  sit  upon  a  stone.  I  now  thrashed  the 
pressing  bubbles  from  my  face  with  both  my 
hands  and  found  some  relief  in  the  larger  quan- 
tity of  air  that  I  was  able  to  inhale. 

But  how  was  I  to  get  out?  It  was  only  too 
certain  that  if  I  found  the  place  of  egress,  it  could 
be  only  by  accident. 

What  were  they  saying,  all  those  thousands  of 
bubbles  that  pressed  around  and  above  me,  so 
soft,  so  evasive,  but  so  persistent  and  so  numer- 
ous ?  For  there  came  into  my  ears  the  strangest 
din  of  small  sounds  that  the  ear  of  mortal  ever 
heard.  Sometimes  it  was  like  the  crying  music 
that  you  hear  in  a  seashell;  again,  it  seemed  as 
if  a  myriad  voices  were  whispering  mockeries  in 

[112] 


Lost  among  Bubbles 


resentment  of  my  intrusion  upon  their  domain. 
I  flung  up  my  hands  and  dispersed  the  crowding 
tormentors,  but  they  settled  down  upon  me 
immediately. 

Though  my  senses  were  becoming  dull  and 
benumbed,  it  was  very  clear  to  me  that  my  situa- 
tion was  serious.  It  occurred  to  me  that  some  of 
the  coast  people  might  have  seen  my  dog  and 
gun,  and  that  they  would  make  search  for  me. 
So  once  more  I  cried  out. 

As  before,  the  sound  seemed  nothing,  though 
it  made  the  mass  all  about  me  quiver  and  tremble 
violently.  There  was  no  human  voice  in  response; 
but  once  I  thought  I  heard  the  faint  barking  of 
my  dog.  I  nerved  myself  for  another  trial,  count- 
ing my  chances  of  success.  Alas !  they  were 
small. 

I  stumbled  on  and  on  and,  as  usual,  went 
against  the  cliff.  Turning  again,  I  set  out  in  the 
opposite  direction,  becoming  more  confused  all 
the  while.  My  heart  was  beginning  to  sink,  and 
I  longed  to  lie  down,  with  this  vast  covering 
above  me,  and  go  to  sleep.  Nevertheless  I  stum- 
bled on  and  on,  not  knowing  whither.  Then  my 
foot  touched  something  soft,  which  moved.  Then 

["3] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


the  thing,  whatever  it  was,  rose  and  touched  me 
upon  the  body.  Then  it  barked.  It  was  my  dog. 

The  dear  brute  jumped  about  in  the  wildest 
excitement,  continually  darting  away  from  me 
and  then  returning.  Stooping,  I  laid  my  hand 
upon  the  dog's  neck,  and  said  as  loudly  as  I 
could,  "  Home,  Jack !  On,  boy ! " 

This  was  just  what  he  needed.  He  set  off  at 
once  at  a  rapid  walk,  with  my  hand  still  upon  his 
neck.  He  led  me  by  the  most  devious  ways, 
around  great  rocks,  gently  across  great  holes, 
over  level  places,  till  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  had 
traveled  miles. 

Then  a  great  flash  came  upon  my  eyes.  It 
was  the  honest  light  of  day,  and  I  was  saved. 

EDMUND  COLLINS. 


BITTER  COLD 

THOSE  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  look  at  a 
map  of  the  western  continent  will  see  that  two 
great  rivers  empty  into  the  North  Polar  Sea  from 
America,  the  Mackenzie  on  the  west  and  Back's 
Great  Fish  River  (or  Back's  River,  as  it  is  often 
shortened)  on  the  east.  Neither  of  these  large 
streams  runs  a  long  distance  within  the  polar 
regions  before  emptying  into  the  Arctic  Ocean, 
but  each  is  covered  with  ice  throughout  the  greater 
part  of  the  year.  In  fact,  one  of  them — Back's 
River  —  is  open  only  about  three  months  of  the 
year,  and  is  really  within,  or  very  near,  the  cold- 
est part  of  the  north  polar  zone,  the  north  pole 
itself  not  excepted. 

At  the  mouth  of  this  river  are  rapids  so  swift 
and  long  that  Lieutenant  Back  of  the  British 
navy,  who  discovered  and  survey.ed  the  great 
stream  over  half  a  century  ago,  called  them  the 
"  Dangerous  Rapids."  So  swift  are  they  that 
even  during  the  severest  cold,  that  puts  six  or 

["5] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


eight  feet  of  ice  on  the  still  lakes,  they  do  not 
freeze  over,  but  remain  open  the  whole  winter. 

This  water,  coming  in  direct  contact  with  such 
extreme  cold  in  the  air,  sends  out  dense  masses 
of  vapor,  which,  freezing  almost  instantly,  becomes 
so  thick  that  one  cannot  see  through  it.  Near 
by  it  looks  white,  like  light  smoke,  but  at  a  dis- 
tance it  seems  perfectly  black,  not  unlike  the 
smoke  from  burning  pine  or  pitchy  matter. 

Standing  on  the  leeward  side  of  one  of  these 
open  rapids,  and  turning  the  face  upward,  one 
could  feel  the  fine,  gritty,  frozen  vapor  falling  on 
it  like  a  shower  of  light  sand  in  a  desert  storm, 
but  cutting  the  cheeks  like  so  many  razors  in  the 
intense  cold.  And  this  fine  frozen  vapor  falling 
on  the  hard  marblelike  snow  was  like  sprinkling 
powdered  resin  over  it,  as  far  as  sledging  was 
concerned.  The  runners,  even  when  coated  with 
ice,  stuck  as  if  they  had  been  wax  itself. 

The  breath  of  the  people  walking  along  was 
converted  into  the  smokelike  vapor,  until  they, 
and  the  dogs,  too,  for  that  matter,  looked  like  so 
many  little  puffing  locomotives.  So  thick  was 
this  vapor  from  two  score  of  dogs  and  half  as 
many  people,  that  when  they  halted  to  rest  in  a 

[n6] 


Bitter  Cold 


small  basinlike  valley,  it  would  accumulate  around 
them,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  it  would  hide 
them  from  sight  as  effectually  as  would  a  thick 
fog.  This  little  patch  of  vaporous  fog,  however, 
made  their  presence  just  as  certain  as  if  they  had 
been  seen.  In  fact,  an  Eskimo  hunter  locates 
by  their  vapor  herds  of  reindeer  and  musk  oxen 
many  miles  away. 

We  left  Back's  River  shortly  after  Christmas 
and  ascended  the  high  hills  of  the  eastern  bank. 
Cold  as  it  had  been  on  the  river,  —  for  we  had 
not  seen  it  warmer  than  sixty  degrees  below  zero 
during  that  time, — it  became  colder  as  we  climbed 
into  the  hills,  and  one  afternoon  our  thermometer 
crawled  down  to  minus  seventy-one  degrees,  or 
one  hundred  and  three  degrees  below  the  freezing 
point. 

The  air  was  as  quiet  as  if  it  had  been  frozen  to 
death.  Nevertheless,  merely  walking  through  it 
made  it  cut  the  nose  and  cheeks  —  the  only  part 
of  the  body  exposed  —  as  a  good  wind  would 
have  done  at  any  other  temperature.  It  was  not 
very  disagreeable,  however,  until  after  we  had 
reached  camp  that  evening.  Then  a  light  wind, 
the  merest  breath  of  air,  came  up  from  the  south, 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


and  it  made  us  all  work  hard  at  the  building  of 
the  snow  houses  to  keep  from  freezing  to  death. 
When  the  shelter  was  ready  we  were  lively  enough 
in  spreading  down  the  reindeer  skins  that  made 
the  bed,  and  in  crawling  in  between  their  warm 
folds. 

At  this  low  temperature  the  sun  took  on  a 
brick-red  look  and  the  sky  around  it  had  a  cold, 
cheerless,  frozen-out  appearance.  At  night  how 
the  stars  did  glisten !  They  would  twinkle  in  a 
series  of  brilliant  flashes,  winding  up  with  a  snap 
that  made  you  feel  sure  they  had  gone  out;  but 
the  next  instant  they  would  be  at  it  again,  appar- 
ently brighter  than  ever. 

This  intensely  cold  weather  is  sometimes  accom- 
panied by  calms  which  make  it  quite  bearable. 
On  the  other  hand,  a  slight  wind  will  make  it 
intolerable.  One  morning  the  thermometer  at 
eight  o'clock  showed  us  that  it  was  sixty-eight 
degrees  below  zero ;  but  as  it  was  calm  and  quiet 
we  loaded  our  sledges  for  a  short  day's  journey  to 
the  igloo  of  an  Eskimo,  where  we  could  buy  rein- 
deer meat  for  our  dogs. 

We  were  just  starting  when  a  wind  sprang  up 
that  was  like  a  razor  blade.  The  dogs  trotted 

[118] 


Bitter  Cold 


and  we  ran  the  whole  way,  except  for  one  short 
rest,  until  we  reached  the  welcome  snow  house. 

At  the  end  of  the  journey  the  thermometer 
showed  that  it  was  warmer  by  thirteen  degrees. 
I  told  this  to  the  Eskimos  with  me,  but  I  think 
from  the  glances  they  cast  at  one  another  that 
they  did  not  believe  me.  It  might  be  possible 
that  the  world  was  round  and  turned  over  every 
day  with- 
out mak- 


i  ng  the 
polar 
bears 
slide  off 
the  slip- 
pery ice-  i  ^ 
bergs,  but 

nothing  would  persuade  these  simple  people  that 
when  their  arms  and  legs  were  frozen  and  their 
noses  nipped  by  the  frost  it  was  really  less  cold 
than  when  they  were  comfortable  and  warm. 

FREDERICK  SCHWATKA. 


["9] 


THE  PLAY  OF  ESKIMO  BOYS 

IT  might  seem  at  first  sight  that  the  desolate 
arctic  regions  would  not  be  a  favorable  place  in 
which  to  enjoy  the  sports  common  among  boys  in 
lower  latitudes,  but  my  experience  has  shown  me 
that  the  Eskimo  boys  have  about  as  many  plays 
as  do  the  children  of  the  temperate  zones,  and 
more  than  those  of  the  tropics. 

The  bright,  keen  cold  of  the  polar  regions 
produces  something  of  the  same  quality  in  its 
children,  and  although  the  popular  belief  is  that 
Eskimo  children  are  stupid  and  sluggish,  I  found 
them  as  bright  and  active  as  those  of  more  favored 
climes.  Any  difference  in  the  nature  of  their 
sports  is  easily  accounted  for  by  the  different 
advantages  they  enjoy. 

Even  the  smallest  of  them  may  often  be  seen 
driving  a  team  of  puppies  harnessed  to  a  musk-ox 
horn  ladle  or  a  walrus  tusk,  which  represents  a 
sledge,  and  belaboring  the  tiny  animals  with  a  toy 
whip  until  they  certainly  do  not  enjoy  the  play, 
however  much  it  may  please  the  small  boy, 

[120] 


The  Play  of  Eskimo  Boys 


In  this  early  play  both  boys  and  puppies  receive 
lessons  that  assist  them  in  later  life  in  matters 
that  are  anything  but  play.  The  toy  harnesses 
used  on  the  puppies  are  usually  made  by  the  little 
girls,  with  some  assistance  from  their  mothers  now 
and  then,  and  thus  all  the  work  may  be  considered 
a  sort  of  cold-weather  kindergarten,  where  the 
children  are  taught  something  useful  for  after  life. 

In  a  little  while  the  ladle  or  the  walrus  tusk  is 
replaced  by  a  miniature  sledge,  and  before  long 
the  young  Eskimo  is  able  to  take  a  sledge  ride  on 
his  own  account ;  but  like  other  boys  the  world 
over,  he  finds  less  pleasure  in  sledging  as  soon  as 
it  becomes  useful  work.  Still,  whether  man  or 
boy,  the  Eskimo  never  loses  his  love  for  a  swift 
ride  over  the  frozen  snow  behind  a  fine  team  of 
dashing  dogs. 

Often  the  boys  play  with  the  dogs,  but  seldom 
in  the  manner  that  youngsters  in  the  United 
States  romp  with  a  favorite  Carlo  or  Prince. 
The  Eskimo  dogs  do  not  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
that  kind  of  game,  because  they  have  so  much 
hard  work  to  do. 

The  Eskimo  boy  often  takes  advantage  of  the 
dogs'  ravenous  appetites  to  get  a  little  fun  out  of 

[121] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


them.  These  animals  are  fed  only  every  second 
or  third  day,  and  as  a  consequence  they  are  usually 
hungry.  The  boy  picks  up  a  stone  or  other  small 
object  and  holds  it  aloft,  and  the  dogs,  thinking 
he  has  something  to  eat,  eagerly  press  around 
him  in  a  dense  mass,  with  heads  and  ears  erect, 
awaiting  his  disposal  of  it.  He  then  hurls  it  as 
far  as  he  can,  and  much  enjoys  the  swift  race  as 
they  fly  like  arrows  after  the  supposed  piece  of 
food. 

It  is  really  singular  how  very  many  times  these 
poor  hungry  brutes  will  allow  themselves  to  be 
duped  in  this  way  for  the  pleasure  of  some  mis- 
chievous urchins.  I  think  I  have  seen  them 
repeat  this  performance  over  and  over  again  a 
score  of  times  before  a  single  dog  ceased  to  take 
the  deepest  interest  in  the  proceedings,  and  to 
run  like  mad  every  time  the  chip  or  stone  was 
hurled  far  out  on  the  snow. 

During  the  season  when  the  snow  is  on  the 
ground,  and  especially  if  a  light  snow  is  falling, 
some  person  who  has  been  out  of  doors  near  the 
snow  houses  may  report  that  a  flock  of  ptarmigan 
or  snow-white  arctic  grouse  is  near  by.  During 
such  weather  these  birds,  if  alarmed,  are  not  likely 

[122] 


The  Play  of  Eskimo  Boys 


to  take  to  the  wing  but  trust  to  running,  and  so 
the  boys  of  the  Eskimo  village  turn  out  and  hunt 
them  with  bows  and  arrows. 

Before  white  men  brought  firearms  among 
these  northern  nomads  they  used  bows  and 
arrows,  the  natural  hunting  implements  of  savages 
nearly  all  over  the  world.  Now  the  use  of  the 
bow  and  arrow  is  confined  almost  altogether  to 
the  children  in  their  sports  and  plays,  and  in 
a  ptarmigan  hunt  they  employ  these  simple 
weapons. 

The  youngsters  can  often  get  within  twenty  or 
thirty  feet  of  the  birds,  which  run  along  on  the 
ground  with  a  waddling  gait  that  suggests  so 
many  overfed  farm  ducks,  and  from  time  to  time 
some  boy  with  a  good  bow  and  a  well-directed 
shot  brings  down  one  of  the  ptarmigan  amidst 
much  rejoicing. 

After  a  while  the  ptarmigan  grow  shy  under 
this  constant  shower  of  arrows,  and  if  the  boys 
press  them  too  hard,  they  take  to  flying;  then  the 
boys'  fun  is  finished.  On  favorable  days  I  have 
known  two  or  three  boys  to  be  led  a  mile  or  two 
away  from  the  village  in  this  sport,  and  to  secure 
two  or  three  birds  apiece.  This  was  in  the  late 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


autumn  or  early  winter,  when  the  birds  were  very 
fat  and  exceedingly  averse  to  flying. 

Of  other  hunting  sports  in  which  the  boys 
sometimes  indulge,  I  know  of  none  which  they 
enjoy  so  much  as  spearing  ducks  in  the  summer; 
and  this,  too,  they  have  almost  to  themselves,  as 
the  men  do  not  care  to  waste  time  and  ammuni- 
tion on  such  small  game  unless  they  have  nothing 
else  to  do. 

The  duck  spear  is  a  curious  weapon  with  three 
barbed  prongs  radiating  at  equal  angles  from  the 
shaft  of  the  spear.  These  prongs  are  not  at  the 
end  of  the  spear,  but  about  one  third  of  the  way 
back  from  the  front  end.  The  shaft  being  of  wood 
the  weapon  will  float,  and  when  it  strikes  a  duck 
the  prongs,  of  thin,  elastic  musk-ox  horn  or  walrus 
ivory,  spring  back  and  "  ride  over  "  the  bird's  body 
and  then  hold  it  with  the  barbs.  If  the  prongs 
were  at  or  near  the  end,  the  harpooned  duck  might 
escape  by  dragging  the  weapon  after  it  "  end  on," 
which  would  be  comparatively  easy;  but  as  they 
are  near  the  middle,  it  has  to  drag  the  spear 
through  the  water  at  right  angles  to  its  line  of 
flight.  This  exhausts  it  in  a  few  seconds,  and 
the  boy  can  pick  it  up.  The  time  for  spearing 


The  Play  of  Eskimo  Boys 


ducks  is  in  the  summer  when  they  are  molting, 
or  shedding  their  feathers,  and  cannot  fly,  so  their 
only  way  to  escape  is  by  diving  and  swimming. 
The  boys,  seeing  a  flock  of  ducks  near  by,  take 
their  spears  and  get  into  their  sealskin  canoes,  or 
u  kayaks,"  as  they  call  them,  and  give  pursuit.  The 
ducks  swim  away  as  the  boys  approach,  and  if 
overhauled  will  try  to  escape  by  diving.  They 
can  go  much  faster  in  this  way,  but  it  exhausts 
them  more  rapidly  as  they  cannot  breathe  under 
the  water. 

When  the  ducks  have  once  begun  diving  it  is 
the  object  of  the  boys  to  press  them  and  allow 
them  as  little  breathing  time  as  possible  when 
they  appear  above  the  water.  The  most  avail- 
able duck  is  selected  and  two  or  three  of  the  boys 
devote  their  energies  to  its  capture.  If  the  bird 
is  nearly  exhausted  by  its  divings  in  every  direc- 
tion to  escape,  it  will  allow  the  boat  to  approach 
very  near,  and  the  boy  soon  catches  it  between 
the  shaft  and  one  of  the  prongs  of  the  spear,  when 
its  fate  is  settled. 

In  the  early  fall,  before  the  young  eider  ducks 
have  learned  to  fly,  the  boys  catch  them  by  scores 
on  the  shallow  inland  lakes  on  the  shores  of 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


which  they  have  been  hatched.  On  one  of  my 
sledge  journeys  two  boys  of  the  party  must 
have  killed  nearly  two  hundred  ducks  one  after- 
noon, and  would  probably  have  extended  their 
barbarous  sport  if  it  had  not  met  with  our 
disapproval. 

Yet  my  experience  among  Indian  boys  makes 
me  feel  safe  in  saying  that  they  far  exceed  the 
Eskimo  lads  in  heartless  cruelty  when  indulging 
in  those  plays  that  give  a  chance  for  its  exercise. 
I  have  known  Indians  to  take  a  fiendish  delight 
in  torturing  small  birds  and  animals  they  had 
captured,  their  eyes  glistening  with  enjoyment  in 
direct  ratio  as  the  creature  suffered.  I  never  saw 
anything  more  than  thoughtless  cruelty  in  the 
Eskimo  lads. 

Of  all  the  games  that  the  white  men  have  intro- 
duced among  them  or  played  before  them,  there 
is  none  that  pleases  them  so  much  as  the  simple 
game  of  dominoes,  which  they  will  play  by  the 
hour.  They  often  make  exact  duplicates  in  wal- 
rus ivory  of  the  domino  sets  brought  north  by 

the  white  men. 

FREDERICK  SCHWATKA. 

["6] 


CHAMPION 
•AMCftOFT  LIBRARY 


THE  HOME  OF  THE  ICEBERGS 

Bancroft  Library 

THE  birthplace  of  icebergs  is  on  the  coasts  of 
Greenland.  This  great  land  mass  stretches  away 
twelve  hundred  miles  toward  the  pole.  It  might 
be  named  a  continent,  since  it  has  an  estimated 
area  of  five  hundred  and  twelve  thousand  square 
miles,  and  thirty-four  hundred  miles  of  coast  line. 

The  whole  interior  of  Greenland  is  covered  by 
an  immense  ice  cap,  many  hundred  feet  in  thick- 
ness. The  sun's  rays,  falling  on  the  snow  at  the 
summits  of  the  mountains,  partially  melt  it  into  a 
granular  mass.  The  valleys  receive  the  drainage 
from  these  granular  snow  fields,  and  the  cold  con- 
verts it  into  a  solid  mass  of  ice  —  a  glacier. 

The  great  weight  of  snow  acts  as  a  propelling 
power  from  behind,  and  forces  the  icy  stream  con- 
stantly onward  toward  the  coast,  which  it  lines 
with  an  enormous  crystal  precipice.  At  last  the 
front  of  the  glacier  is  forced  by  the  propelling 
power  behind  it  into  the  sea,  and  into  deeper  and 
still  deeper  water.  It  begins  to  feel  the  action  of 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


the  waves  and  tides  which  wear  away  its  base, 
and  great  cliffs  of  ice  overhang  the  ocean. 

Now  let  us  witness  the  birth  of  an  iceberg.  A 
lofty  cliff  of  ice,  thus  overhanging  the  water,  has 
been  for  some  time  showing  signs  of  insecurity. 
Great  caverns  have  been  excavated  in  its  base; 
deep  fissures  are  discernible  in  its  face.  Sud- 
denly, with  a  roar  far  louder  than  thunder,  the 
ice  mountain  snaps  asunder,  the  detached  mass 
comes  grinding,  crashing  down,  and  a  cloud  of 
spray  dashes  high  into  the  air. 

The  young  iceberg  dives  as  it  touches  the 
waves,  rises  slowly,  sways  and  tumbles  to  and  fro, 
but  at  last  secures  its  balance.  Its  front  is  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  waves,  but  there 
is  eight  times  as  much  bulk  beneath  as  above 
the  surface,  so  that  its  weight  may  be  millions 
of  tons.  The  berg  is  scarcely  launched  into  life 
before  it  begins  to  feel  the  influence  of  the  great 
arctic  current  that  is  rushing  southward  through 
Baffin's  Bay  and  Davis  Strait.  Borne  on  the 
bosom  of  this  stream,  it  starts  on  its  long  voyage 
of  six  or  possibly  twelve  months. 

At  last  the  berg  reaches  southern  latitudes  and 
a  warmer  clime.  What  the  fury  of  tempests  and 

[128] 


/•  f 


[,29] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


the  blows  of  the  billows  could  not  accomplish,  the 
silent  rays  of  the  sun  and  the  action  of  the 
warmer  air  begin  slowly  to  effect.  The  iceberg 
becomes  relaxed  in  the  joints.  Streamlets  are 
trickling  down  its  sides.  Its  constitution  is 
shaken.  Great  crags  ever  and  anon  fall  from  it 
with  a  sullen  plunge  into  the  ocean. 

Now  it  becomes  top-heavy,  reels  and  turns 
over.  Woe  to  the  vessel  that  is  near  when  this 
takes  place !  Rocky  fragments  embedded  in  its 
upturned  base  are  exposed  to  the  light.  The 
berg  presents  a  completely  new  front  and  sum- 
mit, which  have  been  sculptured  by  the  waves, 
and  it  is  no  longer  recognizable  as  the  same  tow- 
ering monster  that  left  the  portals  of  the  North 
months  before. 

It  is  now  in  a  state  of  unstable  equilibrium,  and 
frequently  turns  over  with  a  hoarse  roar.  All 
sailors  know  the  dangers  of  icebergs  in  this  con- 
dition. They  call  them  "  growlers,"  and  give 
them  a  wide  berth. 

Shorn  of  its  glories,  and  greatly  reduced  in  size, 
the  berg  still  holds  on  its  course  and  approaches 
the  Banks  of  Newfoundland.  Now  it  enters  the 
warm  water  of  the  Gulf  Stream,  and  its  dissolution 


The  Home  of  the  Icebergs 


is  at  hand.    Cascades  are  streaming  down  its  sides. 

Caverns  are  worn  through  its  center.     Small  lakes 

are  formed  on  its 
summit.  Rents  and 
fissures  are  con- 
stantly widening. 

Finally  it  bursts, 
with    an    explosion 


like  thunder.  Its  shattered 
remains  are  scattered  far 
and  wide  and  speedily 
melt  in  the  warm  waters. 
The  berg  is  no  more. 

Such  is  the  life  history  of  an  iceberg.  When 
it  reaches  a  certain  stage,  and  its  cohesive  powers 
are  relaxed,  —  when  it  becomes  "  rotten,"  as  the 

[131] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


sailors  say,  —  it  is  especially  dangerous.  Then  a 
slight  cause  will  make  it  explode,  and  it  bursts 
into  ten  thousand  fragments,  raising  huge  billows 
which  might  swamp  a  vessel.  The  concussion 
of  the  air  from  the  firing  of  a  gun,  or  even  the 
noise  made  by  a  steamer,  has  been  known  to 
cause  such  an  explosion. 

Sometimes  a  berg  has  projections,  or  spurs, 
underneath  the  water,  stretching  far  out  from  its 
base.  A  vessel  that  ventures  too  near  may  strike 
on  one  of  these  unseen  ice  reefs.  Such  an  event 
happened  in  July,  1890.  A  steamer  with  tourists 
on  board  who  were  anxious  to  have  a  near  view 
of  a  large  berg  approached  so  close  that  she 
struck  on  one  of  its  jutting  spurs.  The  shock 
and  the  weight  of  the  heavily  laden  vessel  broke 
off  the  spur,  and  at  the  same  time  a  huge  cliff  of 
the  berg,  many  hundreds  of  tons  in  weight,  fell 
into  the  water  behind  the  steamer  with  a  fearful 
roar. 

A  great  wave  lifted  her  stern,  and  with  a  vio- 
lent plunge  she  seemed  to  be  going  down  to  the 
bottom.  It  was  a  trying  moment  for  those  on 
board,  but  the  good  ship  slowly  came  up,  her  deck 
covered  with  ice  fragments,  and  cataracts  of  water 


The  Home  of  the  Icebergs 


streaming  from   her   on    all    sides.     After  many 
convulsive  tossings  on  the  disturbed  waters  she 


righted  and  managed  to  get  out 
of  that  dangerous  neighborhood. 
It  was  an  extremely  narrow  escape. 

[^33] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


There  are  many  berg-producing  glaciers  on  the 
Greenland  coast.  The  largest  known  —  the  Hum- 
boldt  —  was  reported  by  Dr.  Kane  as  extending 
forty  miles  along  the  coast,  and  as  presenting  a 
perpendicular  front  three  hundred  feet  high.  The 
glacier,  which  has  been  measured,  is  eighteen 
hundred  feet  wide  and  nine  hundred  feet  thick, 


and  it  advances  at  a  rate  of  forty-seven  feet  a 
day. 

Sir  John  Ross  once  saw  a  berg  two  and  one 
fifth  miles  broad,  two  and  one  half  miles  long, 
and  one  hundred  and  fifty-three  feet  high.  He 
calculated  that  the  entire  mass  weighed  fifteen 
hundred  million  tons.  In  the  southern  hemi- 
sphere much  larger  bergs  have  been  seen,  towering 
seven  hundred  to  eight  hundred  feet  above  the 

waves. 

M.  HARVEY. 

[i34] 


PRONOUNCING  VOCABULARY  OF  PROPER 
NAMES,  FOREIGN  WORDS,  ETC. 

The  pronunciations  are,  with  a  few  exceptions,  those  of  Webster's 
International  Dictionary 


EXPLANATION  OF  DIACRITICAL  MARKS 

a,  e,  I,  6,  ii,  long ;  S,  e",  6",  less  prolonged  ;  &,  8,  i,  6,  u,  short ;  a,  §, 
j,  o,  u,  obscure;  far,  last,  fall,  care;  term;  food,  foot;  furl;  6  as  in 
for;  oi  as  in  oil;  ow  as  in  cow;  ch  as  in  chin;  g  as  in  get;  n  as  in 
linger,  link;  ng  as  in  sing ;  th  as  in  thin;  th  as  in  thine;  zh  =  z  in 
azure ;  N  =  French  nasal ;  ii  =  French  u ;  K  =  German  ch. 


Aard-vark  (ard'  vark) 
Adios  (a'dyfcs') 
Africa  (af'  ri  ka) 
Alameda  (a  la  ma'  da) 
Alamos  (a'  la  mos) 
Amazon  (am'  a  zon) 
America  (a  meV  I  ka) 
Andalusia  (an  da  loo'  sh^  a  or  an 

da  loo  the' a) 
Andes  (an'  dfe) 
Antilles  (an  til'  lez) 
Arab  (ar7  ab) 
Arctic  (ark'tik) 
Arequipa  (a  ri  kex  pa) 
Argentine  (ar'jentin) 
Ash  Wednesday  (ash  w6nz'  di) 
Aspinwall  (Ssx  pin  wal) 


Asuncion  (a  soon' s^  on') 
Atahualpa  (a  ta  hwal'  pa) 
Ayacucho  (I  a  koo'  ch5) 

Babel  (ba'bgl) 

Back  (bak) 

Baffin's  (baf  mz) 

Bahama  (ba  ha'  ma) 

Balsa  (bal'  sa) 

Balsimo  (bal'  se  mo) 

Benito  Juarez  (ba  n6'  to    hoo 

res) 

Bolivar  (b51  ^  varO 
Bolivia  (b6  Hv'  I  a) 
Boston  (b6s'  tpn) 
Brazil  (bra  zil') 
Brazilian  (bra  zil'  yan) 

135] 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


Buenas   noches    (boo  Sn'  as   no' 

chas) 

Buenos  Ayres  (bwa'  nos  i'  rlz) 
Burro  (boor7  ro) 

Caballero  (ka  bal  lya'  ro) 
California  (kal  I  fdr'  rii  a) 
Calle  (kal'  lya) 
Caracas  (ka  ra'  kas) 
Carlo  (kar'  16) 
Carnival  (kar'  m  val) 
Cascarone  (kas  ka  ron') 
Castile  (kas  teT) 
Chasqui  (chas  ke') 
Chile  (che'  la) 

Chimborazo  (chim'  bo  ra'  zo) 
China  (chr  na) 
Chiquito  (ch^  ker  to) 
Cholo  (cho'  lo) 
Christmas  (kris'  mas) 
Columbus  (k6  lum'  bus) 
Connecticut  (kon  n6tx  I  kut) 
Cortes  (k6r'  t^z) 
Cuartillo  (kwarte'lyo) 
Cuba  (ku'  ba) 
Culiacan  (koo  It  a  kan') 

Damascus  (da  mas'  kiis) 
Davis  (dax  vis) 
December  (de"  sgm'  ber) 
Desaguadero  (d&s  a  gwa  da'  ro) 

Ecuador  (6k  wa  d5rx) 
Eden  (6'  de.n) 
Edentata  (6  d6n  ta'  ta) 
El  Fuerte  (61  f weV  ta) 
English  (In'  gllsh) 


Eskimo  (esx  ki  m6) 
Europe  (ux  rup) 

February  (f6b'  ru  ^  ry) 
Florida  (flor7 1  da) 
France  (frans) 
Frenchman  (french'  man) 
Fuerte  (f wer'  ta) 

Garambilla  (ga  ram  beT  ya) 
German  (jerx  man) 
Greece  (gres) 
Greek  (grek) 
Greenland  (gren'  land) 
Guaranys  (gwa  ra  nesx) 
Guaymas  (gwl'  mas) 

Haiti  (ha'  tl) 
Hebrew  (he'  bru) 
Hispaniola  (his  pSn  ycV  la) 
Honduras  (hon  doo'  ras) 
Humboldt  (hum' bolt  or   hoom'- 
bolt) 

Inca  (In'  ka) 

India  (In'  dl  a) 

Indian  (In'  dl  an  or  Ind'  yan) 

Isabel  (Iz'  a  b61) 

Isabella  (Iz  a  b61'  la) 

Isaiah  (t  za'  ya) 

Italian  (I  tar  yan) 

Izalco  (€  thai'  k6) 

Jerusalem  (je,  roo'  sa  16m) 

Jesuit  (J6z'  6  It) 

Joaquin  Miller  (wa  ken'  mil'  ler) 

Kane  (kan) 


Pronouncing  Vocabulary 


Labrador  (l&b  ra  dor') 
La  Guayra  (la  gwi'  ra) 
La  Paz  (la  path') 
Latin  (lat'In) 
Leon  (la  on') 
Lima  (16'  ma) 
Llama  (la'  ma) 
London  (lun'dun) 

Mackenzie  (ma  kSn'  zi) 
Manta  (man'  ta) 
Massachusetts  (mSs  a  chii'  sets) 
Mat(§  (ma'  t&) 
Mexican  (m6ks'ikan) 
Mexico  (mgks'  I  ko) 
Miocene  (mi'  6  sen) 
Mississippi  (mis  Is  Ip'  I) 
Mollendo  (mol  ySn'  d5) 
Montezuma  (mon  te,  zoo'  ma) 
Moses  (mo'  zSz) 

Nahuatl  (na'  watl) 
Nebraska  (ne  bras'  ka) 
Neptune  (n6p'  tun) 
Newfoundland  (nu'  fond  land') 
New  York  (nu  ydrk') 
Nicaragua  (ne  ka  ra'  gwa) 

Oceanus  (o  se'  a  niis) 
Olla  (ol'  ya) 

Pacific  (pa  sif'  Ik) 
Pampero  (pam  pa'  ro) 
Panama  (p&n  a  ma') 
Paraguay  (pa  ra  gwi'  or  pa'  ra  gwa) 
Paraguayan  (pa  ra  gwi'  an) 
Paraiso  (par  a  g'  s5) 


Paris  (par'  Is) 

Paseo  de  Julio  (pasa'ft  da  hoo' 


Patio  (pa'  to  n) 

Peru  (p£  roo') 

Peruvian  (p^  roo'  vl  an) 

Philadelphia  (fll  a  deT  fl  a) 

Pizarro  (pi  z5,r'  6) 

Plaza  (pla'  za) 

Poncho  (pon'  ch5) 

Porto  Plata  (p5r'  to  pla'  ta) 

1'ortuguese  (p6r'  tu  g6z) 

Prescott  (pr6s'  kgt) 

Puchero  (poo  cha'  rS) 

Quito  (ke'  to) 

Rio  de  la  Plata  (r6'  6  di  la  pla'ta) 
Ross  (ros) 

Salvador  (sal'  va  d5rx) 
Samana  (sa  ma  na') 
San  Salvador  (san  sal'  va  d5r') 
Santo  Domingo  (san'  t5   do  m6n' 

gS) 

Sargasso  (sar  g5s'  6) 
Schwatka  (shwof  ka) 
Sefior  (si  nyftr7) 
Sefiora  (si  nyo'  ra) 
Seilorita  (sinyorg'ta) 
Sereno  (s6r  a'  n5) 
Sinaloa  (sin  a  lo'  a) 
Sirroche  (ser  ro'  cha) 
Spain  (span) 
Spaniard  (span'ygrd) 
Spanish  (spin'  Ish) 
Swiss  (swls) 


Strange  Lands  near  Home 


Te  Deum  (te'  de'  urn)  Valparaiso  (val  pa  ri'  so) 

Terra  firma  (ter'  ra  fer'  ma)  Venezuela  (ve"n  e,  zwe'  la) 
Titicaca  (tit  £  ka/  ka)  • 

Turk's  (turks)  Watling  (wot'  ling) 

Yerba  (yer'ba) 

Uruguay  (oo  roo  gwi'  or  u  roo- 

gwa)  Zigzag  (z 


